


The Number Next Door

by LumiOlivier



Series: The Number Next Door [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, meet ugly, turns cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumiOlivier/pseuds/LumiOlivier
Summary: MC has finally gotten the opportunity to move into the apartment building of her dreams.  After years of clawing her way up with her design blog, things have finally fallen into place for her.  That is, until she learns her next door neighbor likes to blast meme music at 1AM.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character
Series: The Number Next Door [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092032
Comments: 249
Kudos: 387





	1. Closing Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I'm Lumi. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've never posted for Mystic Messenger here before. I have on FFN, though. If you search me, I'll come up. Either Mistake Messenger or Man's Best Intern. Those are me! But with this one, I thought I'd go with just one character. And that's the ever lovable 707. Why? Because he's such a peanut. It's hard not to love him. But I'm going to let you read. This is basically the prologue, but we'll be here every Tuesday until the story's over, you and I. Unless you decide to read something else. But! This isn't the only Mystic Messenger story I'll be posting...Because on Thursday, I have a Mystic Messenger story going up that's a crossover with another otome game. But you'll find that one out on Thursday. I'm going to let you read now, K?

Finally. All moved in. I’ve had my eye on this building for months, so when an opening comes up, I have to jump on it. The neighborhood was safe. The shops nearby were reasonable. Everything was coming up roses for me. All this time working my ass off on my lifestyle blog and for that hellish think tank will finally be worth it. Now that I had all of my stuff here, it was time to get to work.

I made a promise to my readers that this month’s blog post would be before and after pictures of my new apartment. To call myself an interior designer would be ridiculous. I wasn’t a professional by any stretch of the imagination. It started as a simple hobby. Something I happened to have an eye for. That’s how I got on the think tank’s radar. My boss found my blog and I ended up the social media manager. Because that’s what my generation is good for. His words, not mine.

But that was also five years ago. Then, my blog hit a major spike in traffic and the ad revenue poured in enough for me to tell my old boss to kiss my ass and strike out on my own. And eventually got my apartment. It wasn’t overly huge, but that wasn’t a problem. Most of my readers ask me about how to decorate small spaces. It’s half the reason why I snapped this place up.

Personally, I was always the type for light colors. It’s just who I am. Soft, peaceful pastels made my heart happy. At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about. Whatever makes the heart happy. I didn’t want to be cliché and cover the whole place in marble printed contact paper. Every other design blogger I’ve seen figures overdosing on marble contact paper can cover all of life’s little flaws. But I knew better.

Although, I was going to be that guy and pair pastels with gray. Is it cliché? Yeah. A little. But it’s all about picking the clichés carefully. It makes for a soft color pallete. I know there are other pastel neutral colors, but gray cools everything down. Gray and white worked for all occasions. Besides, with my small apartment, it’ll make the space look bigger.

The only suck part about my little apartment was that I didn’t get a designated room for my office. That’s what I could section the living room off for. It was plenty big enough. My white leather couch served as a divider between the living room and my little driftwood desk. That was my jumping off point. A few light green office supplies, my white laptop, a gray mousepad (because I may be the last person to use a mousepad), and a silver wire basket for my mail. There. Desk, done. All I needed was my bulletin board.

Unfortunately, my big ass bulletin board I used to plan out my month had snapped in half during the move. Oh, I was pissed. That bulletin board was the subject of its own blog post. I decided to go dumpster diving and scooped that building up from behind some office building. With a little bit of love (and some bleach to get the trash smell out of it), she hung in my office in my old apartment until…her unfortunate demise. That just meant another trip to the thrift store. Or another dumpster.

Alright. One corner down. Three more to go. If I work hard enough, I could probably have this place picture ready by tonight. That would mean no breaks and no food. Not happening. I get bitchy if my blood sugar gets too low and I don’t need that. Besides, I’ll want some good, natural light for those pictures for the blog. 

My desk was missing something. The more I stare at it, the more it pisses me off. You need something, but I can’t put my finger on what. Maybe if I keep working on the living room, it’ll come to me. If it doesn’t, I’ll sleep on it and everything will sort itself out. What to do with the rest of the living room. A few plants would help. I loved my succulents, but I needed to pick some new ones up.

After a couple hours of arranging furniture and setting throw pillows just right and adding in a blue afghan I knitted a few years ago, I fell into my couch. I love decorating my apartment, but damn, it takes all of my energy out of me. Maybe I should’ve done my bedroom, so I could immediately crash afterward. No, MC. Start with the public areas first.

I know what I needed. Since the living room was done, I earned a break. Some dinner would hit the spot. I grabbed my bag off the kitchen counter and headed out. All I knew about the neighborhood was by reputation. It won’t kill me to get out and experience it. Besides, it’s an adventure. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like taking a walk. And nothing helps my brain function like proper nutrition.

A lot of lifestyle bloggers I knew were super picky about what they ate. Some of them even documented it. But their blogs were mostly about their veganism or whatever extreme diet was popular at the moment. Out of respect, I wouldn’t eat animal product in front of them, but because of that respect, they wouldn’t preach to me about how I live my life. Luckily, it’d be a table for one tonight. And I’m thinking a food truck.

There was one that only sold grilled cheese that a friend of mine wrote a piece on a few months ago. It parked near my new building from seven o'clock to nine o'clock every night and moved around the city until two o'clock in the morning. I didn’t envy the guy at the end of the night when last call hits. The very thought of it made my skin crawl. Nevertheless, my happy, yet tired ass was getting a grilled cheese.

I walked to the end of the block and ordered my sandwich. A margherita pizza in a sandwich. And it’s delightful. Damn, this guy knew what he was doing. Having him so close to my new apartment might be dangerous. Oh, well. Worth it. Now, I can go home and call it a night. I did have a big bathtub I could indulge myself in. That just sounded…

“GET OUT OF THE WAY! I’M DYING!”

Out of nowhere, a red flash nearly knocked me on my ass. Some guy with his laptop. I hope whatever he had on that screen was important. Even worse, the elevator closed before I could see who it was. Looks like I’ll have to catch the next one. I’ll live. Unless that guy has another electronic device in need of charging. I’m going to take a stab in the dirt and say he lives in the building. At least he knows someone that lives in the building. Or he’s nuts. Either way, I’m locking my doors tonight.

As I finished my sandwich and I watched my clock turn from PM into AM, I slipped into some comfortable pajamas and made my bed enough to where I could sleep on it. This was the beginning of a new chapter in my life. My new apartment, my new job. And I was ready for whatever the universe wanted to throw at me. When I shut my eyes, I had already begun drifting off into sweet, sweet slumber. Tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up and hit it hard again.

Then, I heard something humming from the other side of my bedroom wall. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded like music. I mean, I’m trying to sleep, but it doesn’t have to be dead silent in here, I guess. Alright, neighbor. Go ahead. If I can hear it on my side, I can only imagine how loud it is on the other side.

_I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine. _

_Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all._

_It started out with a kiss._

_How did it end up like this?_

Who the hell would be playing Mr. Brightside at one in the morning?


	2. The New Neighbor

The sunshine warmed my bed through the crystal clear window, successfully waking me up. If that didn’t do it, the tales of Rasputin being Russia’s greatest love machine would. Seriously, what the hell was with this guy? Did he not sleep? Did he have a personal vendetta against my sleep schedule? I wasn’t nearly awake enough to give him a piece of my mind. It’s times like these where I was thankful my coffee pot had an alarm on it.

Every morning at eight o'clock, my apartment smelled like a Starbucks and I loved it. Maybe I could blast music back at my new neighbor. That could be the piece of my mind. Or I could not be petty and let it pass. Although, I’m started to see why this unit was available for so cheap. And lucky him had the corner unit, so I was the only one he was driving nuts. I’ll be fine. Let’s get to it!

I had an apartment to finish and a blog post to ideally go up tonight. Once I had my coffee in me, I got dressed and got busy. Since I finished the living room yesterday, I could move on to the kitchen. I didn’t have very much for my kitchen aside from the dishes to put away. My cooking skills weren’t exactly stellar, so why bother putting effort into a room I’ll hardly use? The only real decorating I did in here was the adorable pink and white tea set I got as a housewarming present for my last apartment. If I only had a kettle…

Putting dishes away took longer than I thought. Since it’s noon, the light won’t behave any better than now. Might as well get some polaroid shots of the living room and the kitchen together for storyboard purposes. And with the DSLR for blog reasons. This place was really starting to come together. However, there was one glaring pain in my ass that needed to be addressed. The one thing that’s not making it to the blog post.

My new neighbor had the strangest taste in music. How does someone go from Rasputin to ABBA? I don’t care if he can dance or if he can jive. His music is ruining the time of my life and I think now is the time for me to kill him. I needed to get some work done and headphones could only get me so far. I got up from my desk and walked over to the apartment next door, pounding my fist with every ounce of strength and anger I had in me.

“Coming!” a voice yelled from the other side. I feel like I’ve heard it before, but I couldn’t place it. The music softened and the door swung open, “Yeah?”

THAT’S WHERE I HEARD IT BEFORE! I let out a little gasp, “You!”

“Me!” he sang, “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“I’m the woman you damn near knocked over yesterday!” I squeaked, “All because your laptop was dying!”

“Some JAVs are hard to come by,” the guy shrugged, giggling at himself, “I made a joke. Good for me.”

“SERIOUSLY?!” I can’t believe I had to yell at my new neighbor like he was a child. I’ve lived here for two days! Actually, he looked kind of young. That didn’t excuse him, “YOU DAMN NEAR KNOCKED ME OVER FOR PORN?!”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “Look, why don’t we go back to your place and we can talk it over?”

“Why can’t I come in your apartment?” I retaliated, “You have a guest at your door, pissed off beyond belief and you don’t even give me the slightest bit of hospitality.”

“To be fair,” he pointed out, “You did come to my apartment and start yelling at me. That wasn’t very neighborly of you.”

“Wait…” I thought for a second, “I never said we were neighbors.”

“Since this is our second encounter,” he figured, “And you look the way you do without any shoes on, either the shoe gnome stole your shoes or you live in the building.”

“I…” This guy had me in a box. And a whirlwind of confusion, “What the hell is a shoe gnome?”

“A gnome that steals your shoes,” he shut his door behind him, “You know when you’re already late for something, but you can’t find the mate to the shoe you have in your hand? Shoe gnomes. They smell fear.”

This guy lived next door to me. Not that I didn’t before, but I’m definitely going to make sure my doors are locked tonight. As much as I didn’t want to, I thought to myself, what harm could it do? Plenty, but I’m sure I’ll live, “I live next door. Come on.”

“Yay!” he chimed, following closely on my heels. Oh, joy. I pushed my door open with my hip and let us both in, “Wow…Nice place.”

“Thank you,” I took a seat on my couch, “I’m still moving in, though.”

“I see that,” he noticed the boxes still laying around, “Are you a professional designer?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Kind of. Sort of. I’m a design blogger.”

“That’s so neat!” he jumped over the couch. Something I wasn’t expecting, “Hey…What’s your name?”

“MC,” I told him, “What about you?”

“That’s the mystery,” he teased, “Most people call me Seven.”

“Seven?” I gave him a look, “Is that what it says on your birth certificate?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Seven. This guy’s name was Seven. Or so he said. 

“Aren’t you the enigma?”

“I sure am!” he beamed, ready to come out of his skin. Somebody needs to back off the caffeine. 

“By the way…” Speaking of caffeine, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just asked me something,” Seven pointed out.

“I’m serious,” I rolled my eyes.

  
“Me, too!”

“I do have a question I want to ask you,” I was ready to throttle this guy, but I can keep myself under control without stabbing anyone, “About Mr. Brightside…”

“That’s one catchy tune,” Seven agreed, unable to sit still, “What about it?”

“It’s not very catchy when it’s two o'clock in the morning,” I argued, “So, if you could keep it down when I’m trying to sleep…”

“Am I keeping you awake?” he awed, “I’m so sorry, MC. I don’t mean to. Loud music keeps the bad thoughts out and Mr. Brightside is one of those songs that we just need to blast in order to get the full effect.”

“Bad th…?”

“I’ll keep the music down at night,” Seven bargained, cutting me off, “But during the day, it’s all the way up and I get to jam. Is that ok with you?”

“Deal,” I allowed, still curious as to what he meant by the bad thoughts. But maybe that’s not somewhere I need to dig. We did just meet, “I’m going to make some tea. You wouldn’t want any, would you?”

“Oolong, if you have it!” he beamed, about to come out of his skin.

“I do!” What can I say? His energy is infectious. 

“So,” Seven wondered, “What made you move here?”

“The building got an opening,” I put the kettle on the stove, “And I seized the moment.”

“I guess the last person who lived here couldn’t handle me anymore,” he figured, hardly able to sit still. I could see why, but Seven seemed harmless, “But it’s kind of expensive to live here.”

“There’s good money in blogging,” I reached up into the cabinet for my tea box. Let’s see…What am I feeling? I guess oolong would be good. I had an oolong with orange blossoms and lemon. I’m sure we could do something citrusy without a problem, “And my blog has kept me comfortable. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Like you said,” I threw his own words back at him, “This building doesn’t come cheap. What made you want to live here?”

“Live here?” Seven laughed, “Bold of you to assume I live here. Although, sometimes, when I’m working, I feel like I live here. No. Silly, silly MC. This is just where I keep my office. You should see my house. It’s huge!”

“Lucky you,” I grumbled under my breath while the kettle whistled. It must be nice to have that kind of money to not only have a place here, but a big ass house somewhere else. What’s next? Does Seven have a garage full of ridiculously nice sports cars, too?

“I needed somewhere to park all my cars.” Is he in my head? I’m starting to think he’s in my head, “And my brother needed somewhere to crash, but that’s here nor there. Hey! Since you’re living here, MC, does that mean I’m going to start seeing you more often?”

“Whenever you’re at your office,” I tried not to sound bitter, but dammit, I’m a salty bitch, “I guess I’ll be here. This is my office, too.”

“Really?”

“Actually,” I pointed into the living room toward my desk, “My office is right over there.”

“It’s too bad you don’t have what I got.” Sister, you’re telling me, “It’s a hell of a setup. When I don’t want to be home, I come here. When I don’t want to be here, I go home. See? Easy as that.”

“You never told me how you pay bills,” I brought our tea to the kitchen table, “What do you do, Seven?”

“That’s a secret,” Seven put his finger up to his lips, “I can’t tell you. That’s extremely classified information. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And you seem really nice, MC. I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“What?” I teased, “You don’t have a pig farm readily available for just the occasion?”

“What would I need a pig farm for?” he gave me a look, his eyes suddenly lighting up, “So, I can give the piggies belly rubs?! I feel like piggies like belly rubs. I’ve seen videos online of pigs getting belly rubs and I’ve never seen a happier creature. Except for maybe a handful of otters going down a waterslide. They’re so happy. And cute! Oh my god, MC. They’re absolutely adorable. I could eat them all up! But not literally. I don’t think I could ever eat an otter. But that curiosity is still there about what they taste like. Kind of like if you were to be a cannibal and wonder what people meat tastes like.”

“Seven,” I stopped him before he could ramble any further, “Do you want to know what the pig farm is for or do you want to keep telling me about the otters and the weird ass segue into cannibalism?”

“Pig farm please,” Seven shut up long enough for me to get through a coherent thought.

“If you throw a human body into a mess of pigs,” I explained, “Those pigs will make sure there’s nothing left of it in approximately seven minutes.”

“Wait…” he thought it over for a minute or two, “YOU’RE SAYING THE PIGS WOULD EAT THE BODY?”

“Right down to the last tooth and fingernail.”

“See?” Seven gave me a nudge, “I knew this was going to come down to eating people by the end of it. Question is, why do you know this? Should I be worried? Are you wanted, MC? Am I consorting with a known cannibal?!”

“No,” I promised, “I’m not a cannibal. I’m not wanted by anyone. You shouldn’t be worried. I went through a phase where I watched a lot of true crime documentaries and this one guy used a pig farm to get rid of the bodies of his victims.”

“That’s so morbid,” he gagged.

“If you think about it,” I went on, “It’s efficient. No one’s going to find the body, so there’s no real evidence to look over. And the pigs are getting fed. It’s no wonder that guy didn’t get found out for twenty years.”

“You worry me,” Seven backed off, finishing his tea, “Not because you know how to kill someone and get away with it, but I really should be going. We should do this again sometime. When’s the next time you’re free?”

“I don’t know.” Was he asking me out? I’m sure he wasn’t. Although, if telling him about my brief closet obsession with true crime documentaries wasn’t enough to scare him off, he’s earned himself a date, “My work schedule keeps me pretty busy.”

“Aww,” he pouted, “But you’re your own boss. You can make your hours.”

“I also need to get content out on time,” I defended, “As awesome as it is that I can make my own hours, I need to stick to those hours like glue.”

“Fine,” Seven let it go, “I understand. In that case, see you later, MC!”

And just like that, Seven was out of my apartment and back to his office. He’s an odd one. But I’ve also had weirder neighbors. There was the one guy who kept trying to sell me pot cookies and the other guy who wanted to take high quality pictures of my feet because they were, and I quote, the feet of goddesses. Seven just likes to go off on tangents that have absolutely nothing to do with each other and blast music on his side of the wall. I can deal with that.

Although, later that night as I lie awake in bed, I stared at my ceiling learning all about a certain man who lived in Russia long ago. He was big and strong and in his eyes, a flaming glow. Seven…We talked about this. I have work to do in the morning and it’s midnight. I need to go to sleep. Unfortunately, I had enough energy to get out of bed and storm the door. 

Pound, pound, pound.

“Hiya, MC!” Seven greeted me, the music turned down, “What brings you by?”

“It’s. Midnight, Seven,” I glared a hole through him.

“Are you busy?” he asked innocently. As if he didn’t know.

“I’m trying to sleep,” my glare never broke.

“Oh, yeah?” Seven chirped, “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Not well, Seven,” I growled, “Not well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he empathized, “Maybe you’re hungry.”

“Maybe I have a neighbor that doesn’t know what volume control is.”

“Hey!” Seven squeaked, “I was just about to go get pancakes. You want to come with me?”

Every fiber of my being was telling me to wrap my hands around this man’s neck and shake until his eyes roll back in his head. But whatever part of my brain that was had gone out to lunch. I didn’t really get to eat much for dinner. I was too busy working on the new blog post. I might be nuts, but what the hell? “Sure. Let’s go get pancakes.”


	3. Do You Like Pancakes?

Why am I like this? Not ten minutes ago, I was ready to tear Seven a new asshole for blasting Rasputin while I'm trying to sleep. And now, I'm going to some twenty-four-hour diner nearby (that I knew had glowing reviews for their breakfast) for pancakes with him. Why the hell was I going for pancakes at such an ungodly hour? I don't know. But I guess Seven just has that kind of infectious energy about him. And one of those faces I can't say no to. No matter how much I want to punch him for not letting me get any damn sleep!

At the same time, though, it was nice of him to ask. Even though I'm tired as hell, I could've said no. He could've told me to go to hell and go back to my own apartment. But here we sat in a soft glow of fluorescents and neon signs. Did that make me any less bitter that I was out this late in dire need of sleep? Oh, hell no. But it could've been a whole hell of a lot worse.

"You know, MC," Seven slid into our booth, "I'm glad you came with me. It's a lot better to do this with someone else than to sit here by myself."

"Ecstatic to be here," I grumbled sarcastically, still half asleep, wanting nothing more than to curl up in my bed and sleep peacefully. Yet, here I was. In a diner. With Seven. About to eat a stack of pancakes.

"You kind of sound like you're pissed to be here," he pointed out, "Sarcasm's not lost on me."

"Dude," I rubbed my eyes, "I don't even know why I'm here. I just wanted you to turn the music down."

"And now," Seven chirped, "I'm apologizing with pancakes. It's a win-win. I don't have to sit here by myself and you get pancakes. Yay! Score one for God 707, Defender of Justice and winner of pancakes!"

"Yeah," I took a long, heavy sip of my iced tea, seriously questioning this boy's mental state, "Joy."

"A lot goes on after midnight around here," he explained, "There's something special about this town at night. Most people are asleep, sure, but sometimes, there's just the right amount of people on the streets or they're sneaking out for the night. Maybe sneaking back in. It's almost like…the town gets blanketed in a certain magic. You know what I mean?"

"Actually…" I stared blankly at the man sitting across from me, not sure who that was, "I do. That was surprisingly deep coming out of you, Seven."

"What can I say?" Seven shrugged, "I'm a modern-day Aristotle."

"Bullshit," I giggled, "But I'll take it."

"I really do have a lot going on in my head," he admitted, "Sometimes, that's a good thing. Sometimes, it's not. But we're not here for that! I have good news! And it's sort of the reason why I asked you out for pancakes."

"What's that, Seven?" I laid my head on the tabletop.

"We're celebrating tonight!" Seven ran his finger around his Dr. Pepper, a low-pitched noise coming from the glass, "I finished a job tonight."

"Congratulations," I applauded, "What did you do?"

"Finished a job," he kept a tight-lipped smirk on his face, "That's as far as I can go without having snipers on me."

"Should I be worried?" I wondered, "Am I going to be targeted by association here? Should I even be seen with you?"

"Says the girl that knows how to dispose of a body," Seven teased, "Trust me, MC. You're totally fine. You're not going to be hunted down to the ends of the Earth for the rest of your life, having to change your name every time you move to a new city every few months to keep them off your scent. If you want, I can give you the name of a guy that's really good at faking documentation. Or if you're ok with a much more invasive situation and aren't afraid of experimental painkillers, I can also give you the name of a fantastic plastic surgeon that could casually give you a new face altogether."

"That was more than I was expecting to get out of you," I blinked a few times, "The life you lead horrifies me."

"It could be worse."

"Here, Seven," our waitress came back with a tray on her arm and a stack of pancakes the size of my head.

"Yay!" Seven squeaked, "Thank you, Florence."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she gave him a smile and a kiss on the top of his head, "Don't make yourself sick, got it?"

"I won't," he promised.

"I mean it, Seven," she put her foot down, almost as if she were his mother, "I've cleaned enough puke up from the drunks that came in here earlier tonight. I am not cleaning up any more of it."

"Yes, Florence," Seven held back a smile as she walked away, "She's the best."

"I'd ask if you came here often," I took one of the plates off the tray, "But…"

"Are you hitting on me, MC?" he gasped dramatically, "Because I am a classy lady. I do not succumb to your incandescent charms so easily. What kind of floozy do you think I am? I AM NO HUSSY!"

This boy was a mess on legs, "Seven! Keep it down! I never called you a floozy or a hussy once. Nor was I hitting on you! That was just an honest, simple question!"

"Oh," Seven chirped, "Yeah. I do. Every time I finish a job, I come here for pancakes. This diner has the best pancakes in town and the combination of Dr. Pepper and pancakes makes the world a better place. It's not quite Honey Buddha Chips and Dr. Pepper, but it'll do in a pinch."

"Not exactly a healthier place, though," I winced, "You wouldn't happen to be diabetic, would you?"

"Not in the slightest," he shook his head, giggling a bit to himself, "You sound like a friend of mine. YOU GUYS COULD BE BEST FRIENDS! You wouldn't happen to know Jaehee Kang, would you, MC?"

"I can't say that I do," I thought back. Not ringing any bells.

"You totally should!" Seven insisted, "I could introduce you! Maybe I should call her and invite her for pancakes, too!"

"Maybe not right now," I suggested, "Something tells me she wouldn't exactly appreciate being woken up at this ungodly hour either. Unlike some people we know."

"That's you!"

"That's me," I rolled my eyes.

"So, tomorrow?" Seven asked.

"Tomorrow for what?" I took a bite of my pancakes. Oh my god…This place needs to be more well known. Seven had a point. This place does have killer pancakes. I knew someone that had that kind of power. But then again, this place looked like it was usually quiet. If I told that someone, I had no doubt it'd blow up and take that quiet charm away. Catch-22, I guess.

"To meet Jaehee," he clarified, "Can you meet her tomorrow? I think I could pry her away from Jumin long enough to arrange a meeting."

"I'm not thinking so," I shot him down, "Is she the one you usually have pancakes with like this?"

"Jaehee?" Seven squeaked, practically rolling on the floor, "Oh, God, no. Don't get me wrong. I love Jaehee. She's a good friend. But there's no way in hell she'd get pancakes with me. Especially not at midnight. Jumin works her too hard, so she's usually in bed by nine o'clock. Unless Jumin's got her working late. But normally, she's got the same sleeping patterns as an old lady. No. Usually, when I get pancakes, I go with my brother, since he's a horrible insomniac, but right now, he's actually sleeping, so I thought it'd be a good idea to leave him alone. Besides, he'd be pissed if I woke him up right now."

"That's understandable," I nodded, "Considering how I was trying to before I was on your doorstep."

"Come on, MC," he gave me a little nudge under the table, "You can't tell me you regret coming out with me."

"Getting there," I held back a smile, "Sorry, Seven. But the story of Rasputin wasn't exactly the ideal bedtime story for me. Especially when it's being blasted in the apartment next door!"

"Boo," Seven whined, "Where's your sense of whimsy?"

"I have plenty of whimsy!" I snapped.

"Relax, MC," he settled me, "I'm just screwing with you. I get it. You have whimsy. You also need sleep. And if you don't get that sleep, you turn into a Mr. Cranky Pants. Much like you are now."

"Precisely," I confirmed, "You're so damn weird, Seven."

"Thank you," Seven took a bow, "You know, MC, we really should do this more often."

As much as I wanted to kill him for keeping me awake, I couldn't sleep anyway. And it's not just because some asshole next door was blasting Rasputin. I've been having a hard time sleeping anyway. By the sounds of things, I'm not the only one who has problems sleeping. And I'm not just talking about Seven's brother. I always knew something about Seven was…a little off, to say the least. But then, there's this. The guy that walked with me to a diner a block away just to get pancakes to celebrate a job well done. He's a little weirdo, but there's something more to him. He's just not letting me see it.

"You're right," I agreed, "Do you think I could knock on your door any time I can't sleep?"

"Um…" I could see his brain fizzle out in his eyes, "Really?"

"Yeah," I took a sip from my tea, "Why not? If you can keep me up, I can keep you up. It's only fair."

Seven still wasn't completely there. His lights were on, but nobody's home, "You're serious?"

"Of course I am," I assured, "You're alright. You're a good energy to have around. If you're not careful, I might want you around when I'm working on my blog post tomorrow."

"Uh…" Yeah. I think it's safe to say I caught Seven off guard. He's kind of cute when he struggles to find words to say.

"But," I figured, "You're probably not going to be in the office tomorrow, are you? Since you are done with your job."

"I don't know," Seven thought, "I might come into the office tomorrow."

"If you're not busy," I offered, "You could just come to my place."

"Yeah," he nodded, "Sure. Sounds like a good idea. When could I come over?"

"I don't know," I thought it over, "Something tells me I'm going to sleep in a little more tomorrow morning, so maybe noon? Will that work for you?"

"Uh…" Seven drooled on himself a bit, "I have to go. Good night, MC!"

Before I could say good night back to him, Seven had already sprinted out and past the window. I mean…It's two o'clock in the morning, so I don't know how night it is. But this really was nice. I've never done pancakes at midnight before. This was a great way to kill a couple hours. And I didn't catch a second wind. With my full belly, I walked back to my building and went home. Sleep deprivation was totally worth it.

But I couldn't help but wonder. What got him so squirrely? As soon as I asked him about coming over, he got quiet. Seven struck me as the type to never know when to shut up, but here he was, quiet as a church mouse, tripping over his words. Why did I like it? Was I that kind of sadist? I always thought I was more empathetic than that. Oh, well. And when I mentioned the woman in his life, he freaked, too. There's something he's not telling me. Call it the investigative journalist in me, but I needed to know.


	4. Sleeping in Silk

Mmm…When I woke up, I felt like I got hit by a freight train. Maybe it’s the sugar crash from all the maple syrup in my system. That’s all a hangover is anyway. It’s just an extreme sugar crash. And it wasn’t fun. Although, I didn’t feel like throwing up, so I had that going for me. I rolled over and grabbed my phone off my nightstand. There’s no way…My clock must be off. Because there was no way in hell it was noon. Son of a bitch…

I jumped out of bed and took a quick shower, getting the layer of yuckiness off my skin from last night. Go get pancakes with Seven, MC. Great idea. It’s not like you have a blog post that has to go up today that you quoted would be up before three o'clock today. How in the hell was I going to pull a blog post together in three hours? I could barely get it together in the eight hours it usually took. I’m screwed. Looks like it’ll just have to go up a little late. I could always book it and say screw the polish, but I did have a reputation to uphold.

I could do it. It’s too bad I didn’t have my bulletin board to help plot it out, but I did have post-it notes and a little bit of wall space. Lemonade out of lemons. Maybe I’ll go out later today and look for a big bulletin board. I’m sure I’m going to have to pay out the ass for it, but fingers crossed that I’ll get lucky like last time and find one in the dumpster of an office building again, but what are the odds of me walking by C&R again, let alone today? Pretty sure I found my last one in the C&R dumpster. That sounded right. 

Maybe I could manage with a little one. Or a couple of little ones and tile them together. It won’t be the same, but like I said. Lemonade out of lemons. With coffee in hand and my ass in chair, I got to work. I could do this. I worked better under a tight deadline anyway. It gave me an excuse to work faster. That pressure probably isn’t the best idea for the sake of my blood pressure, but I could do it. Forced drive, although horribly unhealthy, is extremely effective. 

Knock, knock.

I looked up from my laptop and over at my door. I don’t remember ordering takeout. I don’t have any packages coming that I know of. My mail gets delivered downstairs. Which begs the question, “Who is it?”

“It’s your best friend in the whole wide world!” That voice could only belong to one person. I wouldn’t call him my best friend in the whole wide world, but I’ve known worse people. He did have a good energy and I couldn’t say no.

I shook my head and got up from my desk, unlocking the door for him, “Hi, Seven.”

“Hi!” Seven beamed, ecstatic to see me.

“I thought you weren’t coming in today,” I let him in and sat back down at my desk.

“What can I say?” he shrugged, “I felt like it. And you did say I could come over today.”

“I also remember asking you to let me know before you came over,” I pointed out, “But I can’t exactly kick you out now, can I?”

“Nope!” Seven took the chair across from my desk, “So, what are you doing?”

“Working,” I kept my eyes glued to my computer. My pictures were almost done exporting and I could start formatting them into my blog post, “You know what the best part of having my job is?”

“What?”

I kicked my leg up onto my desk, showing off my pasty ass calves, “Not having to wear real pants every day.”

“Preach!” Seven gave me a really wicked high five that left my hand a bit tingly afterward.

“If I didn’t already know you might be coming over,” I admitted, “I wouldn’t even have shorts on.”

“Same,” he nodded, a big ass grin on his face, “It’s nice to be able to make money without any pants on.”

“Uh…” I gave him a look, “You might want to rephrase that, Seven.”

“Oh, my God!” Seven squeaked, cringing at himself, “Now that I hear it back, that did come out wrong, didn’t it?”

“Big time.”

“I’m so sorry, MC!” he hid under my desk, “I’ve brought great shame on my family! How will I ever atone for…Hey! There’s a crunch berry under here!”

“How?” I wondered, “I just moved in!”

“When was the last time you had crunch berries?” Seven asked.

“I think I might have been fourteen,” I thought back. When was the last time I had crunch berries?

“Damn, girlfriend,” he teased, “You need to sweep.”

“Forgive me,” I grumbled, “I just moved in. I’ve had to make the house a home for the sake of work and on top of that, I have a neighbor that has a tendency to be a pain in my ass in the early hours of the morning.”

“That’s me!” Seven giggled, “I told you I was sorry about that.”

“I know,” I let it go, “I’m screwing with you, Seven. But I have swept since I moved in and I still have no clue where the hell a crunch berry would come from.”

“So,” he switched tangents, popping up on my side of the desk, “What have you been working on?”

“A new blog post,” I told him, “I was actually about to take pictures before you showed up.”

“You’re taking pictures?” Seven perked up, “Can I be in them?”

“Seven,” I let out a heavy sigh, “This is a professional blog.”

“For?”

“Design.”

“Me!” Seven chimed, “I’m design. I’m God’s perfect idiot! I’m a _flawless _design! Please, MC? Please, please, please, please, please? Let me be in your pictures…Please?”

“Fine!” He wore me down enough. And look at that face. I can’t say no to that face. Especially when he gets all pouty with me, “You know, Seven, you’re lucky I’m my boss or this could get me fired.”

“Yay!” his face lit up like a damn Christmas tree, “So, where are we shooting, boys?”

“My bedroom,” I directed him, grabbing my camera off the desk, “Down the hall.”

“Woohoo…” Seven winked, “So, does that mean we’re doing some saucy shots?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a mess of a human being?”

“Sister,” he giggled to himself, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

This is the man that worked and occasionally lived next door to me. Move to this building, MC. It’s one of the nicest buildings in town. It’s in a perfect location. The rent, although pricy, is still pretty damn good for what you get. It’ll be great! Then, without any sense of warning, Seven decided to jump right onto my bed and make himself comfortable.

“I…” I whined, “I just made that…”

“You have a really comfortable bed,” Seven rolled around a little while I snapped a discreet picture. I might be pissed he messed up my bed before I got the chance to get a nice shot of the room altogether, but I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t downright adorable, “And I can see how you hear my music through the wall. In my defense, though, I do have an excellent sound system.”

“I know,” I grumbled, “It’s been the bane of my existence for the last week…But…”

Snap!

“What the hell?” Seven blinked a few times. I think I might have left my flash on. Oops, “What was that for?”

“Vengeance,” I declared, “That’s for messing up my bed.”

“You could’ve remade your bed,” he rubbed his eyes, “When do you think I’ll stop seeing spots?”

“You’ll be fine,” I brushed him off.

“What if I go blind?” Seven whined, “Oh, God, MC. I can’t go blind! There’s so much I haven’t seen yet! I haven’t seen France! That’s not true. I’ve totally seen France. That doesn’t mean I want to go blind! That’s not something I can come to terms with at such a young age!”

“You’re not going to go blind from one little flash bulb, Seven,” I rolled my eyes, “You’re a dork. I hope you know that.”

“But I’m a lovable dork.” For having just freaked out over potentially going blind from my camera flash, he’s awfully cool with it now, “Come on, MC. Admit it. I’m a lovable dork.”

“I guess,” I couldn’t hold back a smile if I wanted to. Seven made a point. And dammit, he was right. 

“You know,” Seven got up from the bed and nestled into the chair, “My friend V does this, too.”

“What?” I wondered, “Puts up with your lovable dork ass?”

“That, too,” he nodded, “No. He’s a professional photographer and a damn good one at that. At least he was until he retired. It’s a shame, too. V’s photos were incredible.”

“What made him retire?” I asked.

“He actually went blind,” Seven explained, “I know it’s something I shouldn’t be making jokes about. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” I told him, “But I’ll accept it on your friend’s behalf.”

“Yay!” he got up from the chair and sneakily moved into my closet, shutting the door behind him.

“Seven,” I got nervous, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing…”

That’s not troubling at all, “Sounds like bullshit. What are you doing, Seven?”

“I’m not doing anything bad!” he swore, still hiding in my closet. 

“I don’t doubt that,” I clarified, “But what the hell are you doing in my closet?”

“You’ll see…”

Something about this didn’t sit well with me. It’s not like he’s going to steal anything. For one, Seven didn’t seem like the type. I mean, I’m sure if he wanted to, he could have some pretty sticky fingers, but he’s a good boy. I know he is. But even if he did, where is he going to go with it? I’m sitting outside my closet. It’s not like he can go very far. I know where his apartment is. Granted, I couldn’t find his house if I wanted to. 

“Seven,” I sighed out, “Should I be worried?”

“Not in the least bit,” he promised, coming out with my light purple nightie on, “Silk is breezy, MC…”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY PAJAMAS?!” I freaked, covering my delicate little eyes.

“What?” Seven brushed me off, “I thought you said you were ok with doing saucy shots.”

“NOT THIS SAUCY!” I screeched, “SEVEN, GET BACK IN MY CLOSET AND TAKE MY PAJAMAS OFF!”

“Come on,” he took a seat next to me on my bed, “You know you want to…OH MY GOD!”

“WHAT NOW?!”

“I look adorable!” Seven caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, “Can I keep this?”

“NO!” I snapped, “THOSE WERE EXPENSIVE!”

“If I promise to replace them,” he bargained, “Can I keep them?”

“NO!”

“Admit it, though,” Seven demanded, “I look cute as hell.”

“Well…” I had to muster up the courage to look at him first. Seven sat back on my bed, stretched out like a cat, content with life. His face had a certain innocent glow about it. Everything except his eyes. Those eyes had mischief in them. But I had a feeling that was just the way they were. As much as I was going to hate admitting Seven was right, “I guess you do look kind of cute.”

“I look cute as hell!” he squeaked, rolling around on my sheets with his feet kicking up in the air. I just saw more of that boy than I thought I ever would tonight. That’s not something I’m unseeing anytime soon, “Seriously, MC. If I get you new ones, can I keep these? They’re hella comfortable.”

“I know,” I nodded, “That’s why I bought them. For me. No, you can’t keep them.”

“Boo,” Seven pouted, “Could you at least tell me where you got them, so I can get my own?”

I stared a hole through him, not sure what to make of this boy, “You’re serious?”

“Hell yeah, I’m serious!”

“You’re too much, Seven,” I sighed out, “I got them from a store online. It was a few years ago, so I don’t even know if they make them anymore.”

“If they don’t,” Seven asked, “Can I just get you a new pair and I keep this?”

“We’ll talk about it then,” I grumbled, still in shock we’re even having this conversation, “Again, Seven, you’re too much.”

“I’m delightful,” he buried his face in my pillows, looking like he was about to settle in for a nap. No, no, no. That’s not happening.

“Hey, Seven,” I wondered, “Are you busy this afternoon?”

“It’s not often this happens,” Seven admitted, “But no. I got nothing going on. The phones are quiet. The pager’s quiet.”

“Pager?” I giggled, “What are you, a drug dealer?”

“Nobody can trace a pager anymore,” he pointed out, “Some clients are secretive. But why do you ask?”

“I was thinking about going to get some lunch,” I told him, “You wouldn’t want to come with me, would you?”

“Sure!” Seven sat straight up, “I’d love to!”

“You’re not leaving in my nightie!” I stipulated.

“Aww…” he whined, “Why not?”

“Because,” I argued, “I have to be seen in public with you. If I run into someone I know while you’re in my nightie, that could prove to be problematic.”

“If they can’t accept me for the beauty I am,” Seven flipped what little hair he had, “Then, they don’t deserve me.”

“Jesus…” I held my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, “I sounded like a friend of mine. I didn’t mean to.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I should probably get changed now, shouldn’t I?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” What have I done? What in God’s green Earth have I done? Mistakes may have been made.


	5. Brunch Buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I'm back from NaNo season! If you'd like a few details, I finished my project three weeks into it with 109K words. I hit the 50K mark five days in. It'll be up on FictionPress in the next couple weeks. Any questions and I'll be happy to answer them. But for now, I'm sure you'd like to know what kind of shenanigans Seven and MC are up to this week. Well, I'd be happy to tell you.

I may end up regretting this, but my optimism shall be unmoved. At least I hope so. Seven, please. For the love of God. I don’t ask for much. Just let me be able to take you into public without people thinking I’m your handler. You may or may not live in the area, but I do. I want to be able to show my face in here again.

“Hey, MC,” Seven took a good look around this warm, cozy café, “This is a pretty neat place.”

“A friend of mine recommended it to me ages ago,” I told him, “But this is my first time in here.”

“Your friend has good taste,” he approved, catching a glimpse of a sign near the register, “Hey! And they’re serving brunch food until one!”

“Brunch food is the best,” I swooned. 

“I don’t get brunch,” he thought out loud, “What time constitutes brunch? And if you eat something a minute, a second after that, is it lunch? And what about when you have breakfast for dinner? Is that a form of brunch? Or is that just good, whimsical fun? Or is it more of a middle finger to a societal norm?

“Seven,” I stopped him, “It’s just brunch. I think its allotted time is between ten and noon. After that, it’s lunch. If you have breakfast for dinner, it is, in fact, a mild act of anarchy. How’s that? Have I answered all of your questions to your satisfaction?”

“Let’s see,” Seven ran through it, “Brunch, lunch, breakfast for dinner? Yep. All the bases were covered.”

“Wonderful,” I applauded, “Can we order lunch now?”

“I suppose so.”

Seven got a grilled cheese and I got an order of blueberry crepes and coffee. The two of us got a table on the upper level of the café where they kept a delightful assortment of paintings for local artists. Part café, part gallery, part concert venue on the weekends. Just as promised. Not to mention, the food was yummy. This was nice. Not quite like when Seven and I got pancakes, but I was also wide awake this time.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” a familiar voice called over to the table, “MC?”

“Trevor!” I got up and fell into his friendly embrace, “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he held me tight, “How are you? It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

“No,” I explained, “I’ve been busy lately.”

“So I’ve heard,” Trever pointed out, “Rumor has it, you jumped ship on the think tank.”

“That’s right,” I nodded, “My blog really took off. The boss was pissed, but I’m sure they’ll live.”

“That’s my girl,” he applauded, “So, what else has been going on? I haven’t checked the blog lately.”

“I got my fancy building,” I gushed, “My apartment is so cute, Trevor. It’s a little small, but it’s just me. I don’t take up much space.”

“Maybe I should come by,” Trevor suggested, “See it for myself.”

“Let me finish it first,” I insisted, “And wait for me to get that blog post out. Then, we’ll talk about it. Speaking of work, what brings you here? I’m guessing investigative journalism?”

“Sort of,” he bit his lip, “The owner is about to put out a few new latte flavors and he invited me personally to taste test and get the word out. He and I were supposed to meet up here. He’s late and we’re going to have words about it later.”

“Because,” I teased, “Heaven forbid someone makes you wait.”

“Hey,” Trevor scoffed, “I’m a well-known and beloved blogger. All it would take is one bad review from me and I could ruin someone. But I wouldn’t do that. I mean, unless they had it coming.”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes, well aware of how Trevor uses his power. He’s really a good guy. He wouldn’t be that kind of a dick, “We know. You’re a god in the food world.”

“Speaking of the gods,” he wondered, “Am I going to see that pretty face of yours at the Googleplex event?”

Shit…I had completely forgotten about the Googleplex event. I let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, “Yeah. I kind of have to. It’s good to build the network and where better than there?”

“You sound so excited.”

“Thrilled…” I groaned.

“Well, I’m happy,” Trevor smiled a bit, “Because…Well…I’d love to see you there. That way, it won’t be so miserable.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled to myself, “But between you and me, I’d rather a root canal.”

“Well,” he peeked over my shoulder, “I have to go. The owner’s here.”

“Ok,” I let him go, “Go ahead. Happy tasting.”

“Thanks,” Trevor shot me a wink, “I’ll see you at Googleplex.”

And so, we parted ways and I sat back down with Seven. I felt kind of bad for leaving him like that, but Trevor has that effect on people. Yet, Seven sat back with a shit eating grin on his face, “Well, well…”

“What?” I gave him a look.

“I’m just going to take a stab in the dirt,” Seven assumed, “Boyfriend?”

“No,” I shook my head, “Trevor? No. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Are you sure?” he pushed me, “Because it seemed like he was your boyfriend.”

“No,” I assured, “Trevor’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I worked with for a while. He’s a blogger, too. Whenever the holidays roll around, we usually collaborate with a handful of other bloggers for a whole series.”

“That’s cute,” Seven sat back, “But in case you didn’t know, he’s into you, MC.”

“No way,” I brushed him off.

“He’s totally into you!” Seven squeaked, “Really? I may be garbage at flirting, but I know flirting when I see it. I watched a friend of mine do it once. Oh my God…That was hysterical! She didn’t even give him a reason. She just flat out rejected him. Just a biting no. He ended up having to stay at my house that night because no one trusted him to be alone. Although…He was following my advice. That kid’s as smooth as crunchy peanut butter. The words were right, but the technique was lacking. One out of five. And that’s a pity point.”

“That may be…” Yikes. Note to self. Don’t follow Seven’s dating advice, “But Trevor’s not into me. He’s just a friend.”

“I think he’s looking for more, MC,” he pointed out, “I suggest the flat out rejection. That’ll send him away. Then again, this guy seems awfully persistent. If you have to move away and change your documentation because he may or may not have boundary issues, I could hook you up with someone. He does flawless work.”

“I appreciate the hook up,” I winced, “But I don’t think I’ll need it. Look, Trevor’s sweet, but that’s never going to happen.”

“It’s not like he isn’t interested,” Seven sipped casually from his soda.

“It’s not him that’s not interested,” I clarified, “It’s me.”

“Did you just pull the worst line in the history of ever?” he stared a hole through me, “Did you just drop the, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line? Come on, MC. I thought you were better than that.”

“I’m not interested in Trevor in a romantic sense,” I couldn’t spell it out any clearer, “He’s a nice guy, but I have no desire to ever date him. And why am I justifying this to you?”

“Maybe you’re justifying it to yourself,” Seven gave me a little nudge, “Ever think of that?”

“Don’t screw with my head like that, Seven,” I groaned, “I can’t handle that this early. And after the last week, my brain is already fried.”

“I’m sorry,” he backed off, “I didn’t mean for that to make your head hurt. I have been known to be a little vexing once in a while.”

“It’s ok,” I smiled a little, “I do appreciate the apology, though.”

“Hey!” Seven switched tangents entirely, “What did he say about some kind of event?”

“Oh yeah…” I remembered, flattening out on our table, “That’s right. The Googleplex event…”

“What is it?”

“It’s just a networking event,” I grumbled, “A bunch of bloggers get together and talk business. Usually, there’s a bunch of advertisers there, too, so they’re headhunting for the ad space. It’s a pretty big night.”

“Sounds like it,” he empathized.

“I don’t even know if I want to go or not,” I confessed, “I just said that to get Trevor off my back about it. To be honest, I’ve seen it on my desk calendar for the last month and I’ve been trying my damnedest to suppress it. If I had my way, I’d stay home in my pajamas, watch cartoons, order pizza, and call it a night.”

“Come on,” Seven tried to cheer me up about it, “I bet it’d be fun.”

“About as fun as a visit to the gynecologist…”

“That could be fun,” he chimed, “If certain cards are played right.”

“You’ve never been to a gynecologist,” I shot him a glare, “No. It’s not. That’s one of those things where the sooner it’s done, the better.”

“How do you know I’ve never been to a gynecologist?” Seven wondered.

“Because you don’t have a vagina, Seven.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, “But still. Maybe I went as moral support.”

“Did you?” I asked flatly.

“No.”

“My point exactly,” I held my face in my hands, “All these formal events end up being are suck up fests and I hate having to suck up for ad revenue.”

“When is it?” Seven asked.

“It’s next weekend,” I finished off my coffee, giving serious consideration to another one.

“You know,” he offered, “If you need a date to this thing…”

“Trevor’s probably already got one,” I shut that down before it could start, “He’s not exactly the type where his bed goes cold for long. He’s not a full on slut, but like I said, his bed doesn’t go cold for long.”

“Not that he wouldn’t say yes to you,” Seven explained, “But I wasn’t saying him.”

“Absolutely not,” I shook my head, realizing exactly what he was trying to say, “I like you, Seven. There is no way in hell I’d put you through something like that.”

“It wouldn’t be the first uppity party I’ve been to,” he admitted, “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Really?” I started to calm down a little, “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” Seven promised with great sincerity in his eyes, “Besides, I do kind of owe you one.”

“For what?”

“It’s just the price I pay,” he shrugged, “Destiny is calling me…Open up my eager eyes…”

“You’re a dork, Seven,” I giggled, shaking my head. But then, I got up and sat next to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders, “But thank you. For not making me have to sit through this bullshit alone.”

“You’re welcome,” Seven hugged me tight, “It’ll be fun night. I promise.”

“Good,” I pulled away, “I couldn’t ask for a better friend right now. None of my other guy friends would do this. Mostly because either their wives or their girlfriends would get pissed at me and think I’m trying to steal their man. I don’t have to worry about a girlfriend with you, too, do I, Seven?”

“Me?” he chuckled to himself, “No. I’m a one-man band, marching to the beat of my own drum. Speaking of marching, I need to get going. What time should I pick you up?”

“Eight o'clock,” I told him, “Saturday night. Don’t be late.”

“I’m nothing if not punctual,” Seven gave me a halfhearted salute, “I’ll see you later, MC.”

“Bye,” I waved him off and sat here by myself, stewing in my own thoughts. 

Oh, shit…What have I done? I got a date to the Googleplex event. The same Googleplex event I wasn’t going to go to. How the hell did the asshole that works next door to my apartment talk me into the Googleplex event? Nevertheless, I got a date to the Googleplex event. And it happens to be that very same asshole that talked me into it. But then, it dawned on me…I need to go shopping…


	6. Chaotic Energy

Shopping for furniture is an absolute pleasure. For antiques? The best! For pieces to go in the various nooks and crannies of my apartment? Nothing like it! However, shopping for a dress for the Googleplex event? Hell. One hundred percent hell. I walk into the department store and it’s almost as if the salespeople can smell the desperation on me. I have no clue what I’m wearing for this damn thing. All I know is that this was a formal event and I still couldn’t believe Seven talked me into it.

I could do this. I can handle it. It’s fine. Just don’t make eye contact with any of the salespeople faking their friendship for the sake of making a sale. Chances are, I’ll wear the dress once and never look at it again. Or maybe I’m just being cynical. That does happen from time to time. And now would be no exception.

Since this is basically a night of sucking up to strangers for money, I should probably dress my brand and not like the sugar baby I’m trying to be. My blog was a very dainty, pastel, marble (used SPARINGLY) dream. Maybe that could work. Design myself like I would my apartment. However I needed to justify it to myself. The sooner I could figure this shit out, the sooner I could get home, throw my ass on my couch, and not be doing this.

However, I may have hit a little snag here. As much as I’d love to wrap myself in pastels, I couldn’t do that without looking like a giant baby doll. Every pastel dress I tried on made me look like an actual sugar baby. Without the gems and the hardware. Dammit. I’m boned. So much for dressing my brand. Turns out when my brand translates to clothes, it doesn’t work for me. Who would’ve thought? I guess I could go with a black dress instead. Simple, professional, no going wrong. Everybody looks good in black. I’d be no exception. The first black dress I find? It’s mine.

As I continued my reluctant trip through this department store, I searched high and low for a good black dress, but to no avail, I couldn’t find one I liked. Almost as if they were all simultaneously giving me a middle finger. Lucky me. Hey…God? Could we have a quick word here? This is bullshit! I couldn’t find one black dress for the stupid Googleplex event! That I didn’t want to go to! But Seven talked me into it! So I’m going! Come on, man. Just throw me a bone here…

That’s when I saw it. A light shined down a little brighter than the store’s fluorescents and the heavens may or may not have parted. Although, I wasn’t quite sure how it was going to work for me. It looked nice on the mannequin. Maybe it’ll look nice on me. I could only describe it in three little words. Fire. Engine. Red. Or three more, if those didn’t tickle the fancy. Plunging. Neck. Line. Don’t get me wrong. I did like it. It was ok. But…Was it right?

I had a friend that kept a blog for fashion. Calling her would’ve been a good idea, but I’m sure she’s busy. I do not envy the fashion bloggers of the world. Granted, nights like the Googleplex event were their time to shine and they mostly were the ones that would make out like bandits. It’s too much work, though. I’ll keep my simplicity. Well, I really didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, it’s not like I could find anything else. I might as well bite the bullet and try the damn thing on.

The bright red dress and I found a dressing room and I began my silent prayer. I don’t ask for much. Just fit. Fit and look good enough for the Googleplex event. So I can go home and not have to worry about this anymore. As I shimmied the bright red fabric up my legs, I started coming to a strange realization…One I didn’t think I’d ever have…I love it.

Every line on it caught me right where it needed to. I didn’t realize how much of a shape my body had. Normally, I was wearing sweaters a size or two too big for me and leggings. That was my comfort. That was where I lived. But this…Who knew MC had curves? Surely not MC. That’s for damn sure. Alright. Maybe it has me sold. Then again, red is a warm color. Red is eye catching. I’m sure someone’s bound to come see me this weekend. There was no maybe about it. We waved bye-bye to maybe three counties and a time zone change ago. This was it. I was in love. It’s coming home with me.

I’m still not too sold on how much it showed of me, but I could get over that. For a brief moment, I thought about texting Seven for a second opinion, but that would mean taking a mirror picture. I never was good at those. I’d either end up covering something I needed exposed or expose something that needed covering or I’d make a face that was trying way too hard to concentrate on composition and I just look like I’m pooping. I don’t need that. He can live with the surprise. At least I hope so.

When I got home, I kicked my shoes off into a corner and threw my ass onto the couch as promised. Sweet, sweet serenity. I could turn on the TV. I could scroll through my email. The world was my oyster. Maybe I could do something silly and cook for a change. But that was way too much effort than I had the energy for and I really didn’t feel like going down to the food truck. My feet hurt too much for that. I suppose I could have something delivered. That sounded like a plan. I grabbed my phone and ordered a pizza. Nothing overly exciting. I thought about Thai food for a second, but pizza…Pizza’s the perfect food. I couldn’t say no.

As my night went on with my belly full, something had suddenly dawned on me. Everything was quiet. It’s weird. Just when I thought I’d be grateful to the quiet, I missed my loud asshole neighbor on the other side of the wall. I knew it was bad when I gave serious consideration to blasting Rasputin in my own apartment for the sake of nostalgia. Maybe I missed Seven a little. But just a little. The fact that I’ll be able to sleep tonight at normal human hours would do me wonders.

But then, out of nowhere, I started hearing noises next door. Me being the inquisitive type that I was, I got up from my couch and did a quick check of my own apartment to make sure I was hearing things right. Nothing was out of place here. Color me curious. I peeked out my door and noticed Seven’s was wide open. Maybe he’s got a new job. But at this time of night? I’d think he’d be holed up in his house somewhere. Then, a different thought popped into my head. What if he’s being robbed? Am I going to have to be the one to do something? I grabbed a heavy metal spoon from my kitchen and walked over, just to make sure things were ok.

When I walked into Seven’s apartment, a white haired man stood in the middle of the living room (At least, it’s what I’m assuming is the living room), scanning the place for something. It’s a good thing I brought the metal spoon. Because that sure as hell wasn’t Seven. Where Seven’s general posture was like a cat or a puppy on espresso (He had no in between), this guy seemed more poised like a swan. Graceful, but on constant high alert. I hope he knows I’m armed with a metal spoon.

“Who are you?” I held my defensive stance. 

The man practically jumped out of his skin. But I could tell he was trying to hide it. He turned around, glaring a hole through me with angry bright blue eyes, “Who the hell are you?”

“I asked you first,” I gripped my spoon a little tighter with all the conviction I had.

“And?” he scoffed.

“I’m M…”

“You’re MC,” the man figured it out. Although, I’m not sure how much I like the fact he knows my name.

“How do you know who I am?” I wondered. Please don’t be a stalker fan that figured out where I lived and got the wrong apartment. 

“I’ve heard more about you in the last two weeks than I care to,” he rolled his eyes, “He won’t shut up about you. It’s maddening. But if it keeps him out of my hair, I guess I can’t complain.”

“Wait,” I thought it over, “You know Seven?”

“Worse,” the man grumbled, “I share blood with him. And a face, too.”

“Oh!” I finally put the pieces together, “You’re his brother!”

“Unfortunately,” he confessed, “If it’s all the same to you, MC, I’m just here for the laptop. You wouldn’t happen to know where that is, would you?”

“No,” I shook my head, easing up on my spoon, “I’ve never been in Seven’s office before.”

“Really?” his brother gasped, “With the way he talks about you, I’d think he’d have given you the grand tour by now. Then again, that would mean he’d have to have some semblance of cleaning and organization in here. How the hell does he manage to get around in here?”

“It is a little disheveled in here,” I agreed, getting a good eyeful of the absolute chaos this place was in. My god, Seven. If you can afford a place in this building and your house, the least you could do is hire a maid in here.

“A little?” he chuckled to himself, “No. This is not a little clutter.”

“Alright, alright,” I clarified, “It’s an absolute tire fire in here. All it needs is a little straightening and some organizing and it’d be manageable in here.”

“He’d never,” he assured, “That’d be too much effort and his work is too important. Or so he says. In all honesty, I think he spends maybe twenty percent of his time in here working and the other eighty is screwing around.”

“And blasting ABBA at two in the morning,” I mumbled to myself, “Only to annoy the shit out of his only neighbor.”

“Now, you understand why you probably got your apartment cheap.”

“How’d you know that?” I asked.

“You live next to my brother,” he pointed out, “I live with him. I feel your pain.”

“Wait a minute,” I thought, “You have a key to this place, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Why?”

The gears in my head started turning as the antique light bulb turned on in my head, “And you said there’s no way Seven would dare clean this place and have it organized and much more user friendly?”

“Right…” he looked at me skeptically, “Where are you going with this?”

“I have an idea!” I chirped, over the moon with said idea, “Do you think I could get your number?”

“I don’t think so,” he shot me down, “Why would you need my number?”

“So I could call you if I needed to get into Seven’s apartment.”

“You realize what he does for a living, right?” he wondered, “And the reason why you’ve never been in this apartment before? It’s not just because he doesn’t know what a vacuum cleaner is. He’s going to kill me for saying this, but he handles HIGHLY classified information. He’s not going to just let anyone in here. The fact that you’re in here is a mere accident. Now, why the hell would you want me to come and unlock the door for you?”

“Because of what I do for a living,” I smiled sweetly, hoping that would help grease the wheels a little, “If you saw my own apartment, you’d understand.”

“I’m not going to your apartment,” he told me, “I’m just here to score my brother’s laptop and go home. If I miss Cupcake Wars, so help me God, I’m kicking your ass personally.”

“I’m a design blogger,” I explained, “I’m an interior designer. This kind of shit is my bread and butter. It really wouldn’t take me too long. Just to straighten things up and get a better organization system in here.”

“He knows exactly where everything is,” he assumed, “I can guarantee it. It’s chaos, yeah, but it’s his organized chaos.”

“Please?” I begged, “I need to get in here. It’d be a white whale for me.”

“I’m not giving you my number.”

“Fine,” I dropped it, “If that’s going to be the case, can you find out if Seven’s going to be away from the office on Monday?”

“Very easily.”

“And if he’s not,” I went on, “Can you come around nine o'clock and let me in here? Please?”

“I could.”

“Would you?” I batted my eyelashes, “It could even be our little secret.”

“You want me to betray my flesh and blood like that?” Seven’s brother shot me another glare, “To let some random girl that happens to live next door to him, nothing more, nothing less, into his office and do God knows what in here?”

“I could show you exactly what I’d do in here,” I bargained, “And it’d make it so much more functional.”

“What the hell?” he shrugged, “Why not? I guess I could do that. If I knock on your door Monday morning, you can come over.”

“Thank you,” I beamed, “I really appreciate it. And I know Seven will, too. Once he calms down from the initial shock.”

“There it is,” he grabbed the laptop off what was supposed to be the kitchen counter. At least, I think it is, “It was a…Well, we’ve met, MC. I may or may not see you Monday.”

“Wait a second,” I stopped him on his way out, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Make it quick,” he sighed out, leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s your name?” I wondered.

He just looked down at his feet, then back up at me from the corner of his eye, “Saeran.”


	7. Googleplex

Ugh…I don't want to do this. As I lay on my bed next to the dress I had to put on my credit card, I took a good, long look up at my ceiling. The day had come. The dreaded day that, if I were smart, I'd forget all about and not go to. How? How in the hell did I let Seven talk me into the GOOGLEPLEX EVENT, OF ALL THINGS? I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate what it stands for. I'm sure the only good thing that could possibly come out of this is the catering. Other than that, it blows.

Well…Not entirely. At least I know I'll be in good company. Granted, that company was the guy that blasted music on the other side of my bedroom wall on a regular basis, but he's alright. That didn't make me want to do this any more than I already didn't. It could've been anything else. But it's the damn Googleplex event. Come on, MC. Get off your ass. It's just the Googleplex event. The one night a year where you beg people for their money to advertise on your blog. And for possible partnerships. Where you have to whore yourself out for your money. Nature of the beast.

I got this. I'm sure. I just needed to go to a happy place. Where was that again? I wasn't even a hundred percent sure anymore. But then, I got it. I'm in Seven's apartment next door. The scattered paper mess is neatly filed away in a beautiful filing cabinet. I'm thinking a dark gray. Nothing overly loud. There needs to be a neutral color in there. And dark gray with a bright blue and green would do very nicely in there. What else are you seeing?

The paper mess is cleaned up and well organized. The kitchen looks functional. There's even a kettle boiling on the stove. Tea is about to be served. But I highly doubt Seven has any sort of a functioning tea set. That's alright. I'm sure he has a million and one novelty coffee mugs tucked away in the cabinets. We'll have tea in the living room. A sleek black futon, a glass coffee table, and a black leather armchair. A big one. And some blue and green throw pillows. Maybe a row of succulents in the middle of the table. In a concrete planter. I liked that idea. Something about it felt…Right. In the weirdest way.

Now that we have that out of the way, how about we get ready now, MC? I know you don't want to, but if all else fails, you can keep designing Seven's apartment. Something tells me I should at least give Seven a little heads up that I'll be redoing his entire apartment. I'm sure he'll be cool with it. I hope. Someone needs to go in there and who better than me? I didn't even give the bedroom and the bathroom a thought! Those needed to be addressed, too. Even though I had yet to see them. If the main area was that bad, I could only imagine how bad the bedroom and the bathroom were…Yikes.

I'm getting overly sidetracked. The Googleplex event, MC. As much as you want to like you want a hole in your head, it's one night. I can handle that much. Despite having to use my credit card to get my dress, maybe I could splurge a little on myself and get some professional help for the rest of me. Not that I didn't have people I could call for that. A perk of being in the design blog business? Usually being lumped in with the lifestyle bloggers. And that meant being lumped in with the beauty bloggers. I mean, I might as well, right? It is the Googleplex event. And that meant putting myself in a prettier package than I normally presented to the world.

Boo…It's too much effort. It's more than I want to put out anyway. I'd rather be staying home tonight with my finger in my bellybutton and cartoons on my TV, but I had to make do. Instead of wallowing in the hell that awaited me in the form of the Googleplex event, I sucked it up and headed to the salon down the street from my building. I'm already unnecessarily stressed. Why not treat myself? It's better than spending the next three hours holed up in my bathroom, growling obscenities at my mirror because of things I can't change. If I don't like it, I can blame a professional instead of beating myself up for it.

It's not like I knew what I wanted done anyway. Stylists have been telling me for years that I should never wear my hair up. Clearly, that was from someone who never had to deal with it before. If I didn't have this long, dark mess up once in a while, I had no doubt in my mind that I'd overheat. Regardless, I sat in a salon chair for the same three hours I would've spent in my bathroom with much better results. For a second, I actually thought I looked kind of hot.

All I could say was thank God for waterproof makeup. If I wasn't careful, I'd have my perfect contour and my striking cat eye sweated off before the event. At least all I had to do now was get dressed. I can't show up to the Googleplex event in sweatpants. Unfortunately. But at least I could breathe in my dress.

How many of the other women attending would be able to say the same? It's truly shocking to see how many of the beauty bloggers and the style bloggers pass out every year at the Googleplex event because their dress or their corset is too tight. Waist trainers are dangerous, kids. Don't try it. Not even once. This has been Auntie MC's PSA on waist trainers.

By the time I was dressed and put together, I heard a knock at my door. However, I had one last thing to take care of. At the end of the day, I was still a blogger. I need to get that sweet validation of total strangers on the internet to justify my existence. After I took a couple pictures and got them posted, the knock at the door tapped again. And this time, a little faster.

"Who is it?" As if I didn't already know. That boy had a distinct and spastic knock.

"Your date for the evening, ma'am!" Seven chimed from the other side.

"Hold on," I finished putting my earrings in, "I'm almost ready, Seven. I'll be there in a sec."

"Okie dokie!" he chirped, "Take your time. I got nothing else to do tonight. I made sure of it. You got me all night."

"You can come in, though," I allowed, "The door's unlocked."

"Neat!" Seven took my advice and walked into my apartment. Although, the abrupt stop in his footsteps was a little troubling, "Uh…"

"What?" I wondered, knowing damn well what he was going uh over. Immediately, I turned shy. More as a defense mechanism than anything, "I know. It's different. Like…Really different. Honestly, I didn't even want to do it, but here I am. You talked me into the Googleplex event. And…Well…"

I continued to stumble over my words like an idiot while Seven just stared. It's like his lights were on, but nobody was home. And it only made things worse for me. Come on, Seven. I don't ask for much. And you never shut up. Please say something. Anything. Just make this a little less uncomfortable. Instead, he continued to stare a hole through me, taking in the view in front of him, "Uh…"

"Seven…?" I gave him a nudge, hoping to all hell he didn't drool on my rug. That'd be a real downer on the night, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Seven snapped back into his head, unable to take his eyes off me, "I'm…I'm fine. How are you?"

"Super," I giggled nervously, "Are you sure you're ok? You look like you're about to pass out."

"Of course I am!" There you are, Seven…Don't scare me like that, you dick, "Yep! A-OK! That's me! Come on! Let's go!"

That was weird, right? Like…That's not just me? Regardless, Seven took me by the hand and brought me into the elevator. Where more uncomfortable silence filled the room. Thank God for that cool night air. Maybe it did some good for both of us. However, I wasn't expecting the car out front. Usually, the Googleplex event would spring for a limo to get me. That wasn't something I was totally unfamiliar with. But like I said, it's usually a limo. In its place, a beautiful sports car sat in front of my building.

"Well?" Seven opened my door for me. Then, he got in on the driver's side, "Shall we?"

"Seven," I gasped, "Is this yours?"

"Hell yeah!" he beamed, "This is my baby! I've had a friend of mine get really pissed off at me once and threaten to drive it off a cliff. If we're allowed to be totally honest in this car, I cried."

"You keep some odd company," I pointed out, squirming into the soft leather. Oh…This was nice. This was _very _nice. I'm here for it. Since we're being honest…I'm glad this was taking me instead of the car Googleplex would've sent for me. And not just because of the car.

When we got to the event, it had already started to feel like home. Although, I don't think Seven realized how much of a red carpet event this was. Because he started getting twitchier than normal. Oh, shit…I didn't even think if he could handle being around large groups of people. He wouldn't have talked me into this if he couldn't…Right? God, I hope so.

"Shit…" Seven mumbled to himself, "MC?"

"Yeah?"

"How many cameras are here?" he asked, "If you had to fathom a guess."

"Probably," I took a good look at the crowd on the other side of the velvet rope barricade, doing a quick headcount, "Twenty or so. Why?"

"Due to certain work hazards," Seven explained, "I can't be photographed. It takes away from the international man of mystery that I am. I don't need tabloids posting my face."

"Ok," I knew how to handle this. It's an easy fix, "If I introduce you as my handler, they won't pay you any attention. It's a shitty thing to do, yeah, but it keeps you out of any pictures. They won't want you. They'll want me."

"So…" Seven figured, "If they don't know I'm your date, they'll blow me off?"

"Completely."

"Good," he relaxed a little, "It sucks that I won't be able to hold your hand, though. Or be close with you."

"That's just outside," I brushed him off, "Once we get inside, we're golden. And you can do any of those you want."

"Pinky promise?" Seven cocked his head.

"Pinky promise," I stuck my pinky out to him, "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be!"

And just like that, Seven handed his keys off to the valet (and muttered a death sentence to the kid if he gets the slightest scratch on it) and the two of us headed toward the carpet. The bright flashes from the cameras were blinding, but as much as I hate events like this, they have their moments where they can be kind of fun. Like this. All of the attention kicked ass! It's like I was getting the traffic to my blog, but in person. Not my first red carpet and it sure as hell won't be my last.

To no surprise, I had people asking about Seven. When I turned around to point out my handler, I finally got a decent look at him. For some reason, I had visions of this boy showing up to the Googleplex event in a banana suit. Or something equally ridiculous. But he didn't. Despite me being a design blog and not a style blog, I could still smell out Armani from a mile away. Much like Seven's well-tailored suit. If that's not Armani, I will kiss someone's ass. But like I told the people behind the cameras, he's just my handler, looking to blend in with everyone else. Although…As soon as we got inside, I noticed something slightly off.

"That wasn't too bad," Seven leaned up against the nearest available wall, catching his breath for a moment or two. My hands started going up toward his neck and without hesitation, he slapped them away, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just trust me," I reached back up again, straightening his bowtie, "You were crooked. It was driving me nuts. Are you sure you want to do this, Seven? It's not too late. We can slip out the back door and no one would notice. I do know someone on the kitchen staff that'll let us out."

"MC, I'm ok," he promised, "It's not my first party like this. And I'm almost a hundred percent sure it won't be my last. I know all about this racket and I can work a room, too. Besides, I'm here to have fun with you. Nothing more. Nothing less. Is that ok with you?"

"Yeah," I smiled, "I can do this, too."

"Good!" Seven squeaked, getting more of an eyeful at me, "Um…MC…"

"Hmm?" I wondered, cocking my head a bit.

"You…" He had something on his mind. Something wanted to come out of his mouth. But for whatever reason, it wasn't coming out.

"Seven?" I tried coaxing it out of him, "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Seven dropped it, "Don't worry about it. Let's go!"

And so, our evening began. On a positive note, food. Everything glistened with steam and love and I'm so glad I decided to come here. They're going to have to wheel my fat, happy ass out of here. The only reason why the Googleplex events are ever worth going to was for the food. Whoever they have cater this thing deserved a million times more than what they were being paid. Because I could drown myself in the mashed potatoes alone and I'd be able to die happy.

Later on in the night, I had done my networking without lowering myself to some of the standards of the others. I'd watch the beauty bloggers out of the corner of my eye when one of my potential advertisers would drone on about something I could honestly care less about. They'd be adjusting the necklines of their dresses or faking laughter or flirting their way to a decent payout. When I came to my first Googleplex event, I made a promise to myself that I'd never lower myself like that. If they're not going to give me their money based on my own merit, then I didn't need it from them. I don't blog with my body. I blog my decorative talents. But then…The evening decided to take a turn when Seven and I finally got a moment alone.

"This is exhausting," I sighed out, making myself comfortable at our table.

"I'm sorry, MC," Seven took my hand, "You want some water?"

"Ideally," I admitted, "I'd have a cup of hot green tea with a little honey in it, but water would be nice. You don't have to get me any, though. I can get it."

"No, no, no," he shook his head, "It'd be my pleasure. Don't you worry about a thing! I got you covered!"

"Thank you, Seven," I smiled a bit, trying not to fall asleep at the table. He immediately jumped up and looked for water for me. Bless him. Seven didn't have to come with me to this, but he did. Seven didn't have to take care of me now that we were here, but he did. Even before this, he didn't have to take me with him for pancakes, but he did. He's a special kind of someone. And I really do think I should keep him around for a while.

"MC!" a familiar voice called out to me from the crowd. Shit…Someone found the bar.

"Hi, Trevor," I kept up appearances. It wasn't exactly uncommon for him to get wasted at these kinds of things. And Trevor when he's drunk…? Well…

"So," he sat in Seven's chair and threw his arm around me, "You having a good time?"

"Yeah," I wiggled out of his embrace, "I've done pretty well so far."

"MC," Seven joined us with a cold bottle of water in his hand. Thank God, "Here."

"Thank you," I let out a sigh of relief, popping the cap off and drinking half of it in the first gulp.

"You know," Trevor suggested, slurring his words together, moving closer into my ear, "Maybe you and I should go somewhere a little more…private."

"Hey!" Seven chimed in, "Hi there. I'm Seven. I'm here with MC."

"So?"

"Trevor," I stopped him. Granted, I wasn't going to go off with him, but still, he had no right, "Don't be an ass."

"Actually," Seven went on, "I was at the café the other day when you showed up and talked to MC, too. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were following me. But that's here nor there."

"Why would I follow you?" Trevor gave him a look, "I've never met you before. I don't even know who you are."

"Seven," he introduced himself again, "I just told you this."

"Do you mind?" Trevor scoffed, "I'm trying to talk to MC. See? Now, you understand why I wanted somewhere private?"

"Yeah…" Seven nodded, "I do actually mind. Since she didn't come here with you. And she's trying to let you down gently, but because she's so sweet, you're mistaking her kindness as flirting."

"MC," Trevor took my hand, "I want to introduce you to some people. They're absolutely loaded and I'm sure they'd love to meet someone like you."

"Hey!" Seven chirped, "I know people like that, too!"

"I'm sure you do," Trevor rolled his eyes, pulling me away from Seven. He had a point. I was too sweet. When I'm trying to let him down gently, it's so gentle than he doesn't see it. I've seen what happens when Trevor gets too drunk like he is now. Unfortunately, I've seen it firsthand, but I don't think he remembers it. I love him to death like the older brother I never had, but damn, he's an ass when he drinks.

"Trevor, no," I pulled away from him, slipping my hand into Seven's, "I appreciate it, but I'm getting kind of tired and I want to go home. I've done well enough for one night."

"MC, wait," Trevor begged, "Please…Come home with me. I'm sure my penthouse is better than your postage stamp apartment."

"I like my postage stamp apartment," I brushed him off, "Good night, Trevor."

Seven caught my sudden apprehension and got me out of there as soon as humanly possible. I hated when Trevor got drunk. When he's sober, he's the sweetest thing. Although, he can also sometimes be a little bit of an ass. At least when he's sober, he tries not to be a little bit of an ass. When he's drunk, the filter comes off and I have to fight every urge in my body to not slug him. Like when he was being a dick to Seven. Of all people! Seven's a gentle lamb and probably wouldn't hurt a fly. Yet Trevor had to be a dick. Seven brought me outside to get a minute or two of fresh air. Fortunately, all the photographers were gone.

"I knew this was going to be a bad idea," I confessed, laying my head on Seven's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, MC," he draped an arm around me, trying his best to comfort me however he could, "You want to get out of here?"

"Please."

The two of us got in Seven's car and left the party. There's a reason why I hate those damn things. Between Trevor not being able to say no to the open bar and the fact that I have to suck up to assholes, it's hell. I thought having Seven there would make it a little less miserable. And I was right. To a certain extent. He tried. That's all that mattered. And I tried, too, somewhat. I mean, I walked out with a few new advertisers, so I'm not complaining. I just wish I could've walked out of there without having to diffuse a situation with Trevor.

Instead of turning off at the diner like I thought we were going to, Seven and I took a little drive through the park. Thankfully, it wasn't overly cold outside tonight. But that night air felt good on the skin I decided to show tonight. A little snap, but nothing more. I got out and laid on the hood, making myself comfortable. Somewhere in the cool breeze and the sparkling sky, I found a sense of peace. Much better.

"I'm sorry tonight sucked for you, MC," Seven got on the hood next to me.

"It's not your fault," I assured him, "Trevor got stupid and no one was going to stop him. Other than that, I'd say tonight was a success. I got yummy food in my belly. I was in good company. I got a few advertisers for the blog."

"But what about the ones Trevor was going to introduce you to?"

"They were probably an excuse to get me alone," I figured, "Trevor gets kind of sleazy when he's drunk."

"You know," Seven suggested, "If you need the cash, I know a guy."

"You know a guy?" I gave him a skeptical look.

"Yes, I do," he nodded.

"Really?" I still wasn't quite sure what to think of this, "And who do you know, Seven?"

"One of the richest men in the city," Seven admitted, "Do you know who Jumin Han is?"

"Uh…" my heart stopped. And I got sudden flashbacks to one of the last times I had gone dumpster diving, "Not like…C&R, Jumin Han…Right?"

"Exactly like C&R Jumin Han!" he chimed, "I know Jumin very well! Oh, MC…You should see his kitty! Elly's so pretty. I love her, but Jumin won't let me see her. I play with her one time and suddenly, I'm _abusing _her. I don't abuse her. I love her and Jumin gets jealous easily. It's not my fault he's territorial. But I'm sure if you asked him nice and told him I sent you, he'd throw you a bone, too."

"I appreciate it, Seven," I kept everything under control. As much as I wanted to screech at the top of my lungs right now. How in the hell does someone like Seven know someone like Jumin Han? I didn't understand it, but maybe it's not meant for me to understand, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey," Seven sat up, "I know somewhere we can go. Somewhere I know will make you feel better."

"And where's that?"

"The diner," he suggested, "I know you ate enough when we were at the Googleplex event, but some of us have a metabolism like a machine and get kind of grumbly easily and want pancakes. Besides, they have your green tea, too."

"I'm starting to lose my craving for green tea," I told him, "But I'd kill someone for a milkshake."

"Ok!" Seven squeaked, jumping down from the hood of his car. Without another word between us, we took off for the diner. What did I do to deserve Seven? He's doing his best to salvage this shitty night for me and I loved him for it. Although, when we got to the diner, he stood outside for a sec.

"Seven?" I wondered, "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he brushed me off, "Don't worry. I need to call a friend of mine real quick, k?"

"Don't call Jumin, Seven," I begged, "I can take care of that myself."

"I'm not calling Jumin," Seven promised, "He'd kill me for calling him at this hour. No. Different friend. Go ahead in. I'll be there in a sec."

"Ok…" Color me curious, but I want to know who he's calling…


	8. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you catch the Game Grumps reference in this week's chapter, you get a gold star and may God have mercy on your soul.

Milkshakes are life’s cure all. Unless someone’s lactose intolerant. They make coconut milk ice cream. I’ve had it once. It’s not bad. But my big ass strawberry milkshake? With all of the dairy intact and more sugar than one human body needed in a lifetime? It definitely salvaged some of this night. As much as I hated how tonight went, it wasn’t all bad. I got my milkshake. I got my sponsors. I got a delightful meal in my belly. I got Seven to hang out with. I’m not really complaining too much. And as far as first dates go, this one doesn’t even crack my top five worst. This would do just fine. The beginning sucked ass, but the ending…Not too bad.

“Hey,” Seven finished tearing through his big ass stack of pancakes, “You know what we should do?”

“What?” I slurped the last of my milkshake, giving serious consideration to stuffing my fist in the bottom of the glass, “A senseless act of vandalism? Find Trevor’s car and bash the windows in?”

“No,” he shook his head, “That would be wrong. Although, it does sound like fun. Ever go to a junkyard and bash the crap out of cars with a baseball bat? It’s an absolute blast. Ten out of ten experience. Would recommend you do at least once in your life.”

“I can’t say that I have.” Screw what little pride I had left. My fist was going into the bottom of this glass and I’m getting that little bit of syrup out of there, “So, what, Seven? What should we do? I mean, the rest of the night is kind of shot. There isn’t much left to do outside of going to the bars and the clubs and getting stupider.”

“Well,” Seven suggested, “Ever go to a midnight movie?”

“Not that I remember,” I thought back, not getting anything.

“It’s the best!” he squeaked, “Usually, there’s hardly anyone in the theater. Sometimes, you make a colorful friend and casually discuss the movie while it’s going on. It’s a great time!”

“That does sound like fun,” I agreed, “Ok. We can do that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, licking the ice cream off my finger, “What the hell? What else do I have to do tonight?”

“Alright!” Seven jumped up from our booth, “Let’s go!”

“It’s not even midnight, Seven,” I pointed out, “Sit your ass back down.”

“Ok…” he sat back down, “I guess I did get a little excited, didn’t I? I haven’t been out for a midnight movie in ages. I’m usually so wrapped up in work or I’m trying to sleep.”

“Well,” I smiled softly, “It’s a good thing you got me then. We can go out for a midnight movie any time. As long as I don’t have to do a blog post in the morning. Or any kind of other work. Sometimes, I get asked for the occasional freelancing gigs and I need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for that.”

“What about tomorrow?” Seven wondered, “Aren’t you going to do a blog post on the Googleplex event? That seems like the kind of thing one would blog about.”

“That’s the business end of things,” I explained, “People who read my blog aren’t going to care about that. They come to me looking for design and aesthetic advice, not about the parties I get invited to. I guess I could start another personal blog and do that kind of thing there, but my life’s not interesting enough for that.”

“It’s plenty interesting!” he nudged me under the table, “I’d read it.”

“You don’t have to read it,” I giggled, “You work next door to me. You’d be living some of it. Although, there was this one time where I was going to do blog post pictures and this weirdo decided to climb into my bed with one of my silk nighties on.”

“Hey!” Seven’s face lit up, “That was me!”

“I still have those pictures,” I admitted, “They’re in my computer. I think. I’m pretty sure I put those in my computer. Did I take them with my DSLR or my Polaroid?”

“I think with your DSLR,” he figured, “I remember you saying something about needing the right light not for storyboarding.”

“So, yeah,” I nodded, “That’s my DSLR. I’m sure my readers would be down for hearing shit like that, but for now, we’re not going to do that.”

“Why not?” Seven whined, “Your personal blog would probably kill, MC! Do it!”

“If I did,” I elaborated a bit more, “I have no doubt in my mind they’d assume we were a couple.”

“And what would be so bad about that?” he gasped, “I’m insulted! Appalled! You wouldn’t be willing to be ran through the rumor mill with me? MC…I thought we were better than that! I thought we had something special!”

“It’s not that, you moron,” I rolled my eyes, “I wouldn’t want you to get involved. I’ve been through that once before and it’s hell. I’d rather not go through it again.”

“What?” Seven assumed, “Falling in love?”

“No,” I shook my head, “The rumor mill. Because it doesn’t always work out so well for me. The last time it happened, people were thinking Trevor and I were together. The speculation drove me nuts. Everyone was thinking I was using him because of how well his blog does and then, his fangirls came after me. And everywhere I went online, I was getting slammed. Why? I don’t know. Because the internet likes to jump to conclusions. And then, once it came out that we weren’t dating, they were saying we broke up and that it was all my fault. That was the last time I ever wanted a relationship, real or otherwise, broadcasted on the internet. No. Screw that. If you and I were ever, ever, ever going to be a thing, you and I would be a well kept secret. Not because I was ashamed of you or you of me, but because my private life stays private for a reason.”

“I understand,” he allowed, “I can see where you’re coming from. Not to mention, if you were to come out and say you were in a relationship, the internet has their moments where they’re downright scary in their sleuthing skills. I can’t exactly be broadcasted on the internet either. An international man of mystery such as myself needs to stay a mystery.”

“You certainly are an enigma, Seven,” I confirmed, “That’s for sure.” 

“Thank you, MC!” Seven awed, “I appreciate the compliment.”

“So, question,” I asked, “Who were you on the phone with earlier, Mr. International Man of Mystery?”

“If you must know,” he threw himself dramatically onto the table, “I was calling my brother. Making sure he was doing ok. I know he appreciates the quiet time in the house while I’m gone, but I don’t want him to get lonely, you know? I worry about him.”

“Maybe we should invite him to come with us,” I suggested, “Would he be cool with that?”

“I don’t know,” Seven mulled it over, “My brother likes his sleep. It’s nothing for me to finish a job early, come home in the middle of the day, and he’s passed out in front of the TV on the big beanbag chair. It’s adorable to see. If we’re being honest. But thank you, MC. It’s nice of you to think of him, but it’s going to be just the two of us on this adventure.”

“That’s fine, too,” I allowed, checking my phone, “We should get going if we’re going to make it on time.”

“Ok!” he grabbed my hand, “Let’s go!”

Seven dragged me halfway down the block to a movie theater downtown. Huh. I’ve never been to this one before. It looked like it had seen better days, but who was I to judge? In a way, it had its own charm to it. Seven grabbed our tickets for whatever was playing next (insisting he’d pay for them. He did worm his way into the Googleplex event and he did convince me to come out tonight. He wanted to make up for it. Isn’t he a sweetheart?) and the two of us got right into the theater.

That’s weird. No snack stand. Oh, well. No worries. Between the milkshake and dinner from the Googleplex event, I couldn’t fit anything more into my body if I wanted to. Maybe the lack of snack stand was a blessing in disguise. When Seven and I got into our theater, it was just the two of us. No one else. I guess we can chalk that up to a win. Although, when I put my arm down on the armrest, I felt something sticky under it. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but suddenly, I was thankful for my hand sanitizer.

“Hey, Seven,” I asked, “Do you even know what this movie is called?”

“No clue,” he shrugged, “Something about brothers, though, I think.”

“Ok,” I let it go. Whatever it was, I just hope it was something good.

That’s when the night took a weird turn. Because suddenly, there was a very nude gentleman on the screen. And another gentleman walked in, gasping at the first nude gentleman on the bed, “Anthony!”

“I got to have that big dick of yours…”

“I don’t know…”

“Full service,” the nude gentleman on the bed ordered, “Just like Susan.”

WHO THE HELL WAS SUSAN? WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS? Slowly, but surely, I turned to Seven, “Hey, Seven…”

“Yes, MC…?” Seven had his eyes shut tight, “What is it?”

“What kind of theater is this?”

“I don’t know,” he got up from his chair, “But I think we should leave.”

“Yeah…” I agreed, following him close behind, “Did we just…?”

“No!” Seven stopped me, “Don’t say it. My pure eyes cannot unsee what has already been seen.”

Without another word, we walked out of the theater and back to Seven’s car. Well…That wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to see with him tonight. I thought it’d be a shitty B movie or maybe a horror movie with garbage special effects, but charmingly garbage. Instead…We had that. I don’t think he intended our midnight movie to go that way either. But it did. And the only way we could get over it was to talk about it.

And what better place to talk about it than on the car ride home? “Hey, Seven…?”

“Yes, MC?” Seven kept his eyes firmly affixed on the road.

“Did we just watch a gay porno together?”

“Entirely on accident.” Poor thing looked like he was either about to cry or throw up. I wasn’t quite sure which one. But then, Seven quickly snapped out of it, “You know, we could just go back to my house, if you’re not wanting to go back home yet.”

“I don’t know…”

“That phrase is banned for the rest of the night!” he snapped, “I just hear it in Anthony’s brother’s voice and I can’t handle it.”

“Alright, alright,” I settled him, “Would it be ok if I came back to your house?”

“Of course it is,” Seven assured, “Besides, I’m sure you’re dying to see it. I won’t let you in my apartment, but my house is fair game.”

“Besides,” I thought it over, “Trevor’s drunk and stupid. I’m sure he can figure out which apartment is mine on the off chance he wants to show up at two in the morning, pounding on the door. I’d rather not deal with that.”

“Then, you can crash at my house,” he allowed, “That’d be fine by me.”

“Thank you,” I laid my head on his shoulder, “I was getting kind of tired anyway.”

Seven made a turn into a more upscale neighborhood. There’s no way in hell he lives down here. But sure enough, past a giant gate, a keypad and a microphone sat outside. After Seven mumbled something in a language that I didn’t even know what it was, the doors opened and a small mansion sat on the other side. Damn…This place was nice. This wasn’t Seven’s house, though. There’s no way. It’s someone else’s house. Seven just lives on the land. In the pool house. 

“Here we are,” Seven tossed his keys on the marble kitchen counter, “Home sweet home.”

“Is this the part where we have to get out before the real owners show up?” I assumed, knowing enough of Seven’s little tricks by now.

“I am the real owner,” he promised, “If you want, I can show you the deed. My name is on it. But it’s also my real name and not too many people know that.”

“This place is incredible,” I undid the buckles on my shoes, taking the death traps off. Sweet Jesus…That felt so much better.

“Like I said,” Seven jumped up onto the counter, making himself comfortable, “Home sweet home.”

“Thanks for letting me crash here tonight, Seven,” I sat at the island, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem!” he sang, “Besides, we had a good night, right?”

“I mean,” I bit my lip, “It could’ve been better. Drunk Trevor and the gay porn aside…”

“Excuse me?” a familiar voice had joined us.

“Saeran!” Seven hopped down from the counter, throwing his arms around his brother, “MC, this is my brother Saeran. Saeran, this is MC. She’s a delight.”

“We’ve met,” Saeran looked me up and down, getting an eyeful of the kind of hussy I was for the sake of getting more money this evening, “You look nice, MC.”

“Thank you, Saeran,” I smiled, melting a little inside.

“When did you two meet?” Seven wondered, horribly confused.

“The other day when I got your laptop,” Saeran told him, “She thought I was robbing you. Now, what happened?”

“Seven and I went to the wrong movie theater,” I explained.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” Seven turned bright red, “We didn’t plan on seeing a gay porno tonight!”

“Settle down, Saeyoung,” Saeran rolled his eyes, “I don’t have the energy to deal with you tonight. So, what’s MC doing here?”

“She’s got a stalker,” Seven came down, “So, she’s going to stay with us tonight! Yay!”

“Yay…” Saeran grumbled, “If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”

“Cupcake Wars, Saeran?” I teased him.

“Project Runway!” he walked out of the kitchen with a fresh juice box in hand. 

“On that note,” I got up, “I think I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long night.”

“Guest room’s down the hall,” Seven directed me, “You don’t need anything, do you?”

“No,” I shook my head, “I’m a simple creature.”

“Ok,” he sent me off, “Good night.”

“Good night.” The cold tile of Seven’s kitchen felt so nice on my aching little feet. I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. The chances of my face breaking out tomorrow morning were high, but I didn’t care at this point. I just wanted to go to bed.

“Hey, MC,” Seven stopped me before I could leave.

“What?” I glanced over my shoulder. 

“You…” he got nervous again. Like he did before we went into the Googleplex event. But then, he managed to spit it out this time, “You really looked beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, Seven,” I awed, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest, “Good night.”

“Good night.”


	9. Breakfast at Seven

I woke up the next morning much earlier than I thought I would. A part of me was still surprised I stayed at Seven’s house last night. That wasn’t the way I usually did things. I woke up still in my dress from last night, so I think I can chalk that us as a win. All that meant was I didn’t sleep with Seven. Although, I do seem to remember seeing a gay pornography film with him on accident. We…We don’t talk about it. We’ve seen things we can’t unsee.

Let’s go to the kitchen. I’m not going to go through his shit. My upbringing prevented me from that. I’m sure Seven ahs coffee somewhere. Besides, coffee sounded like a hell of an idea. One cup of coffee and I’ll go home. I’ve already overstayed my welcome. By the looks of things, I’m the only one up. Good. I wouldn’t want to make things weird. And I liked having my coffee in quiet. If I remember correctly, Seven and quiet weren’t exactly two things that went together.

“Morning…” a voice from the kitchen table scared the shit out of me.

“Saeran…” my heart jumped out of my chest, “Where did you come from?”

“I do live here,” he pointed out, sipping on his juice box with reckless abandon, “Or do I have to give you the talk about when a mommy and a daddy love each other?”

“I know where babies come from,” I brushed him off, “What are you doing in the kitchen?”

“Again,” Saeran reiterated, “I live here. I’m also a horrible insomniac. What brings you to the kitchen at this ungodly hour?”

“I just woke up,” I poured myself some coffee, “But this is the normal time I wake up anyway.”

“Eww,” he finished off his juice.

“It’s a lot of people’s normal wake up time,” I argued.

“Who am I to judge?” Saeran looked down at his phone, casually scrolling through his posts, “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, MC. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the girl my brother drools over when he’s in the shower.”

“That thought aside,” I began suppressing it as soon as possible, not sure whether to be flattered or a little creeped out, “I’m going to head home. Is Seven still asleep?”

“As far as I know,” he rested his chin on the balm of his hand, “Why? You looking to breathe heavily over him while he’s sleeping?”

“No,” I shook my head, “Just going to check on him.”

“MC…”

“Hmm?” I stopped, “What is it, Saeran?”

“Do you care about him?” Saeran asked.

“If we’re being honest,” I sat with him, “Yeah. I do. It’s been a long time since I had a friend like him and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

“What about that Trevor dude from last night?” he got up from the table, grabbing another juice box, “What’s his story?”

“That’ll never happen,” I cringed, “Trevor…He’s a good guy. He really is. It’s just that…I don’t know. I don’t see that working out. He appreciates his wine a little too much and he turns into an asshole when he drinks. I couldn’t date him.”

“Ever try?”

“We went on one date,” I confessed, “One. It was a disaster. He wanted to sample the cocktail list for the sake of work research. Enough samples pile up. He’s hammered. I have to drive him home and he’s trying to dry hump the shit out of my leg when I’m walking him inside and between you and me, I think he might have peed on me at that point. Anyone that tries to get near me is automatically a threat. Trevor’s sweet, but he’s clingy.”

“He’s clingy, too,” Saeran pointed out.

“No one is Trevor clingy,” I assured, “We’re not even dating and he sees any man in my life as a threat. I don’t mind when we hang out. It’s usually a good time if we can keep the alcohol out of it. Ever see Seven drunk?”

“Can’t say I have,” he poked his straw in the box, “But he also doesn’t drink. He says it clouds up his mind and he doesn’t want that. It’s probably for the better, though. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to deal with him drunk. He’s a pain in the ass when he’s sober.”

“Well,” I got back up, “I really should be going. I’m going to go peek in on your brother and make sure he’s still breathing.”

“You do that,” Saeran went back to his phone and his juice box while I went to look in on Seven.

Sure enough, sleeping like a baby. It’s weird to see him sleeping. I figured he just plugged into a convenient outlet, charged, and went about his day. Still, he’s so peaceful. You didn’t have to do what you did for me last night, Seven. I greatly appreciate it, though. Even when we accidentally watched Anthony and his brother have sex and that we don’t talk about it. I gave him a delicate kiss on his cheek and whispered in his ear, doing my best to not wake him up, “Thank you, Seven…”

Almost immediately, Seven turned bright ass red. Seven…_is _sleeping…Right? 

“Seven?” I spoke softly, “You little shit, are you awake?”

“No…” Seven’s face scrunched up.

“Bullshit.”

“Maybe…”

He’s exasperating, “I’m going home. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, MC,” Seven buried himself in his blankets a little more, hiding himself. He’s a dork, but what can I say? He’s growing on me.

When I got home, I didn’t find flowers or a note at my door, so I’ll chalk that one up as a win. I just hope Trevor got home ok last night. I’m sure one of the beauty bloggers took him back to their place and some hardcore snuggling went on. Trevor’s not exactly the worst looking creature to spawn from the primordial ooze, so it’s not often his bed ever goes cold. And he’s kind of a slut, so…No judgment. But on the plus side, home sweet home.

Do I want to do a blog post about last night? Not particularly. That does seem like something I should blog about, but it’s like I told Seven last night. People don’t go to my blog for discussions of my personal life. They go for tips on how to make the most of what little space they have and not have to pay a kidney for it. Although, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t splurge a little bit once in a while for my apartment. Hell, my rent in itself is a splurge. But I still needed to check the C&R dumpster again for a bulletin board. Now that I know Seven knows Jumin Han, that might make things a little weird. It’s a shame, too. Sometimes people accidentally throw out good office supplies, too. It’s been one of my biggest scoring spots since I started my blog. Oh, well. I’ll manage. 

So, to blog or not to blog…No. Screw it. I’m not doing a blog post. Not about the Googleplex event. I’ll leave that for the lifestyle bloggers and occasionally, some of the beauty bloggers talk about it, too. Mostly for the sake of fashion, but let them cover it. Because personally, I’d like to forget the Googleplex event ever happened. It was the after parts that I liked. Watching Seven down a big ass stack of pancakes, my strawberry milkshake that was enough sugar to throw someone into a diabetic coma, the midnight movie that looked more like a midnight rendezvous. That was the good stuff. 

Well, if I’m not going to do a blog post about the Googleplex event, what could I do? I looked over at the clock on my stove. It’s damn near eight…It’s been a while since I’ve been to a yoga class. Maybe that could set me right. What the hell? Why not? I pushed myself up from the couch and took a quick shower. Just enough to get the sweat and shame off me. Nobody had to know I was just dressed like a hussy for the sake of monetary gain. But I did look pretty hot. Not going to lie. 

Once I was somewhat clean again, I threw on some yoga pants, grabbed my mat, and took a walk to the studio up the block. Wow…It has been a while since I’ve taken a yoga class. When I was in here last, the class was at least thirty people. Now…If there were six of us here, I’d be amazed. But then, the class quickly became seven. Hello…He’s pretty…And new. Definitely new. I’ve never seen him in here a day in my life, but my god, you’re pretty.

“Hi…” he flashed me a little smile. Ok. I’ve never been this sweaty before a yoga class.

“Hi,” I turned into a puddle. No. MC, do not fall under his spell. You don’t know anything about this guy. For all you know, he could be a serial killer and want your kidney. Keep your kidneys, MC…Wow…Sometimes, the weirdest things pop into my head and I hear them in Seven’s voice. It won’t kill me to be nice to him, though.

“I’m Zen,” Pretty Face introduced himself. Zen…Zen…Why did that sound familiar?

“MC,” I reciprocated, setting my mat up next to him.

“MC?” Zen gasped, “Not…_the _MC…”

“I’m the only MC I know.” Who the hell is this guy and how does he know me? From the blog, maybe? I did have a couple pictures of me up on there. But he didn’t strike me as the type to be down for interior design. Always nice to meet a fan, though. 

“I’m sorry,” he shook it off, “It’s just that…I know all about you.”

“Uh…” I moved my mat a few steps over, “How do you know about me, Zen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s not like that!” Zen assured, “I’m not stalking you or anything. I know how unsettling that is and I’d never do that. It’s just…I didn’t think you were real.”

“What do you mean?” I gave him a look, still not sure what to think of him.

“I thought you were a computer program,” he explained, “And Seven wished really hard to make you real. You’re not some kind of new form of robot, are you?”

“No,” I started to relax. Of course he heard about me from Seven, “It’s strange, though. You’re not the first one to think I was a computer program. His brother thought I wasn’t real either.”

“It’s good to see Seven’s made a friend,” Zen chuckled a bit, “He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who gets out much. I’ve tried inviting him to things, but no such luck.”

“Really?” I straightened his hips out, making sure his pose was right, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” he allowed, “But yeah. As far as I know, Seven’s a total recluse.”

“He went out with me last night,” I pointed out, “But his office is next door to my apartment. I wouldn’t have called us friends at first.”

“Seven can be an acquired taste,” Zen admitted, “But at the end of the day, he’s pretty harmless. So, what happened?”

“He was blasting music on the other side of my bedroom wall,” I told him, leaning back into my own pose, “But after a while, he and I get along famously and he’s learned to keep the music down after midnight. We’ve managed to work things out.”

“Can I ask you something, MC?” he wondered, switching poses.

  
“Sure. Go ahead.”

“What’s a girl like you doing sniffing around Seven?” Zen teased, “He doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Hold on,” I stopped him, “Back up. We’ve known each other for a total of maybe ten minutes and suddenly, you know what my type is?”

“Going off what I’ve heard about you,” he explained himself, “I think I have a good grasp on the kind of person you are and I’ve met women like you before. Someone like Seven doesn’t seem like your type.”

“You’ve met women _like _me,” I clarified, “But you’ve never met me. Until today. I’m not bitching or anything, but you don’t need to make such snap decisions about me. Don’t write me off quite yet.”

“I’m not writing you off,” Zen assured me, “I’m just curious. Like…from a psychological standpoint. What would someone such as yourself be doing sniffing around someone like…Well, Seven?”

“He’s sweet,” I said bluntly, “I like him. Although, I’m not exactly sniffing around him. He just happens to be my neighbor. We’re occasionally around each other. Mostly when he finishes a job and wants someone to get pancakes with.”

“Sounds like a date to me.”

“It might have been,” I shrugged, “It might not have been. As far as I know, it was us getting pancakes.”

“You may not be sniffing around him, MC,” Zen pointed out, “But to hear him talk about you? I think he may be the one sniffing.”

“To be honest,” I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back a smile, “I’ve been kind of suspecting that for a while now. When I left his house this morning…”

“You’ve been to Seven’s house?” he gasped, “People don’t go to Seven’s house. Except for a mutual friend of ours, but that’s here nor there.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I slept there last night. And look. I came out totally unmarred. Not a scratch on me. Not a hair out of place. He was making sure I didn’t get followed home. Because, as I said before, Seven’s a sweetheart.”

“He’s a weirdo.”

“All of the best people are,” I wasn’t holding it back anymore. If I said Seven has never made me smile or question my life decisions before, I’d be lying. Ever since that boy has come into my life, things have gotten a little brighter. A little more exasperating. I can’t listen to ABBA anymore with feeling both extreme irritation and light joy simultaneously. And that’s all because of the pain in the ass that works next door to me. 

“I’d love to get to know you a little better, MC,” Zen admitted, “If not to see what you’re getting Seven into. You think we could do this again?”

“This won’t be my last yoga class,” I promised, rolling up my mat, “But yeah. That’d be fine. When should we meet up?”

  
“Are you doing anything after class?” he asked, a little taken aback by my boldness. I mean, I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time to screw around.

I had given consideration to a blog post or to even starting a new one, but that would mean planning a launch…I like planning launches. Then again, it wouldn’t kill me to take a break. Although, I still needed to plan out Seven’s office…What the hell? I could stand the break, “No. I’m free. What did you have in mind?”


	10. Drafted

When I got up this morning and went to yoga, I didn’t think I’d end up going on a coffee date with the hot guy next to me. Good for me. Was it a little weird that he happened to know Seven? A little. But it’s a small world. Why should I be surprised? Because Zen seems like he comes from a totally different world than Seven. Seven is practically an alien compared to Zen. But in that same respect, Zen looked like an angel who fell to Earth. Still, I never thought I’d be sitting across from a beautiful creature like this.

“So, MC,” Zen sipped on his green juice, “What do you do?”

“I’m a design blogger,” I swirled my straw around in my jasmine green tea, “I do mostly interiors, but sometimes, I’ll play around with aesthetic boards based on different moods I’m in. It’s great for the creative processes.”

“And,” he looked me over with great confusion and skepticism, “You’re interested in someone like Seven?”

“I guess so,” I smiled behind my drink, “What can I say? He’s sweet.”

“He’s freakin’ weird,” Zen pointed out.

“So?” I brushed him off, “Did you ask me here to talk about Seven or are you genuinely curious about me?”

“You,” he turned the charm back on, “When you’re not running your blog, what do you do for fun?”

“That’s actually how my blog started,” a soft nostalgia washed over me, “That was just for fun until I got to monetize it and it’s been my job ever since. But even when I’m not working, I’m constantly moving my furniture around. It’s starting to become a problem. If my living room or my office stays the same for a week, it’s a shock.”

“Really?” Zen laughed a bit, “A workaholic, huh?”

“Big time.”

“You know, MC,” he offered, “If you ever need a little extra muscle to help you move your furniture, you can give me a call. I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks,” I took off my hoody and flexed my arms, showing off the decent amount of muscle in my bicep, “But I got some of my own, too.”

“It’s impressive,” Zen approved, “But it’s good to have help, too. Less stress on your body. You only get one of those, so you should take the best care of it.”

“Thank you, Zen,” I knew where he was coming from and I’m sure he meant well by it, but…Let’s just say I’ve been burned by someone who wanted to help me move furniture before. And it started a lot like this. I got up from our table, “As nice as this was, I really need to be going. I have a commission I’m starting on tomorrow and I haven’t even touched it yet.”

“You do commissions?” he perked up.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Once in a while, I’ll get a freelancing gig.”

“Could you do me?” Zen asked, taking a second to process what had just come out of his mouth, “My apartment! I…meant my…apartment…please.”

“I figured,” I giggled while Zen’s face turned a bright shade of red, “When I’m done with my current project, I’d be happy to.”

“What are your rates?” he recovered quickly from his mild case of embarrassment. I thought the innuendo was cute once I realized he wasn’t a pervert.

“It all depends on the size of the space,” I told him.

“Here’s what I’ll do,” Zen took my phone off the table and tapped away on the screen, “I will text you my address and you can come over anytime I’m home. How’s that?”

“Works for me,” I took my phone back. Either way, a job’s a job. Normally, I make quite a bit from my commissions. 

“We’ll talk soon,” he flashed me a charming smile and the two of us parted ways. As nice as Zen was, something about him just…I think he was too preoccupied about Seven and me. 

Regardless, I really did have work to do. Because I had a commission that the client didn’t even know about. And I needed to have a half-assed idea of what I was doing. I wasn’t quite sure about the colors, but I knew I wanted something somewhat industrial. From what I saw the other day when Saeran was there, I wanted that space. I wanted to sink my teeth into it and do with it as I pleased. Something about it said to turn it industrial. 

Industrial was one of those design styles that could be a little finicky to tackle. On one hand, it could be cool as hell, but on the other, it could also come off as cold. All that metalwork. But with the right amount of color, it warms the space right up and makes it a little less depressing. I’m thinking maybe yellows. Yellows would work with all the metal I plan on putting in there. The last time I saw it, the place lacked any sort of distinct personality. Which is weird, given Seven’s usual disposition. One would think it’d be just as weird as he was, but I’ve seen doctors’ offices with better design schemes than that. I’m sure Seven’s work keeps him busy. Which means the design suffers. That’s what he has me for! Little does he know…It’s going to be a long day. Long days mean pizza for MC later!

And so, I got to work, doodling on some drafting paper an overly simplified schematic of Seven’s office next door. Because dammit, modern technology has come a long way, I did something even smarter than my doodles. I opened up a browser on my laptop and went straight to one of my favorite websites when it came to this sort of thing. God bless Pinterest.

Let’s see…Industrial design. I started a new board and started looking through furniture. Granted, I knew I wasn’t going to get exact pieces like the ones in the pictures, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t, say, find something at a thrift store and do a little tweaking to it, so it looks like the piece I found here. My creativity knew no bounds. And nine times out of ten, when I fell down a Pinterest rabbit hole, I wasn’t going to come out of it for a while. My creative juices would be flowing like a river after a rainstorm. 

Knock, knock.

Yay! Pizza! Good. After being holed up with Pinterest for the last two hours and yoga this morning, I was starving. I closed all my windows and grabbed the cash off the kitchen table. Although, when I opened the door, I was a tad disappointed. It wasn’t all bad, though. At least I knew I’d be in good company, “You’re not the pizza man.”

“Hiya, MC!” Seven chirped, “Wait, you got pizza coming?”

“Yes,” I giggled a little, “Come in. Sit down.”

“What are you doing on this lovely day?” he threw himself into my couch, peeking over at my laptop. Nothing to see there. Just my wallpaper that matched the rest of my desk. 

“Working,” I told him, rolling across the floor in my desk chair, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Seven laid his chin on my shoulder, “Blog post?”

“Drafting,” I explained, “I got commission work coming my way and I figured I’d get a jumpstart on it.”

“Look at you!” he praised, “I’m so proud. It only feels like yesterday you were walking into porn theaters…”

“That was yesterday, Seven.”

“Going out with strange men…”

“That was you, Seven.”

“Doing nothing but partying…”

“I had to do that for my ad revenue, Seven.”

“Oh, MC…” Seven sighed nostalgically, “They grow up so fast…Let’s have another one.”

“We don’t have any kids, Seven,” I rolled my eyes, giggling at this moron, “And I’m sure as hell not popping one out now! I got too much shit going on. I don’t even have a boyfriend yet!”

“Yet?” he perked up, “Is there something you’d care to tell me, MC?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I assured, “I’m not seeing anyone. Although…”

“Although?” Seven wondered, “You left my house this morning without hardly saying goodbye. I couldn’t help but feel a little jilted.”

“You got a kiss goodbye,” I reminded him, “Don’t you try to lay the guilt trip bullshit on me. And I thought you were asleep, you little shit.”

  
“I believe you called me the same thing this morning,” he laughed a bit, “So, what happened? What’s with the although?”

“Since I had some time to kill this morning,” I went on, “I decided I’d go to a yoga class.”

“On purpose?” Seven squeaked, “Why, MC? Who hurt you so bad that you decided to hurt yourself with _yoga _of all things?”

“No one hurt me,” I pulled my knees into my chest and did a little spin around in my desk chair, “It’s not the first yoga class I’ve been to. A friend of mine, lifestyle blogger, asked me to yoga once just to try it. She didn’t like it, but I did. And I caught the bug. It’s funny, though. I haven’t been to a yoga class since I moved in here. But I also had a bunch of other things going on. Like moving. And decorating my apartment. And my pain in the ass neighbor.”

“That’s me!” he gladly took that title. And with great pride. 

“But I met a guy there,” I hid a little smile from him, “And oddly enough, it’s a small world.”

“Why do you say that?” Seven asked, “Is he better looking than me? Is he smarter than me? Oh, God, he’s loaded, isn’t he? And he probably has a cute rescue dog with a sad backstory, but it turns happy because he took her in. And then! To top it all off, he’s already invited you to his parents’ cabin up in the mountains for the weekend to meet them. You’ve already named your children and decided you were going to move to the other side of the world…”

“Seven!” I stopped him, “Come back to Earth. He’s cute, but I don’t think he’s my type. From what I understand, you’re borderline genius…”

“Borderline?” he gave me a look.

“Ok, ok,” I corrected myself, “You’re a genius. He seems like…Maybe he’s just a pretty face. I mean, he wasn’t a moron by any means, but you’re smarter than he is. I don’t think he has a dog or a shit ton of money. No cabin. No mountains. No babies. And my ass is staying right here. It’s the damnedest thing, too. He knows you.”

“He does?” Seven’s confusion only grew from there, “People don’t know me, MC. I’m kind of an enigma. I keep it that way.”

“That couldn’t be truer,” I agreed, “But his name is Zen. Ring any bells?”

“YEAH!” he chimed, “I know Zen! But then again, _a lot _of people know Zen. He’s sort of famous.”

“We didn’t talk much about him,” I got up from my desk chair and moved back to my couch. As much as I’d love to keep working on Seven’s office, I’d rather hang out with him while he’s here, “It was mostly about me. And a little about you. Rumor has it, you’ve gushed about me to a few people.”

“Can you blame me?” Seven defended, “You’re you, MC. You’re wonderful. You didn’t kill me when we first met. All in all, I can’t do anything else but sing praises. But what did Zen have to say?”

“Well,” I bit my lip, “He did say you were weird.”

  
“Everyone says that about me,” he assured, “That’s nothing new. And I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“And I think he was questioning my sanity,” I remembered, “Because we’re relatively close.”

“That we are,” Seven nodded, “I like to think of us as friends, MC. Would you be cool with that?”

“Absolutely,” I beamed, curious as to what his real feelings are telling him, “Tell you what. You can hang out here as long as you promise to behave yourself and let me get a little bit of work done. Is that cool with you?”

“That’s fine by me!” he sang as a knock tapped at my door, “I got it! That’s probably the pizza man.”

“Money’s on the kitchen counter,” I directed him.

“Don’t worry about it, MC,” Seven brushed me off, “I got it.”

“No,” I put my foot down, “I got it. The money’s on the counter.”

“Fine,” he took the money off the kitchen counter as I told him to and got the pizza for me. Bless him, “There. Happy? It smells good.”

“That’s because I got the good shit,” I swooned, “There’s this pizza place on the other side of town. It’s the best. It’s a little on the pricy side, but it’s totally worth it.”

“I noticed,” Seven mumbled to himself, “But here nor there. I’ll behave myself if I can have some pizza, too.”

“I’m not going to eat this all by myself,” I allowed, taking the box from him. The lid flew off this beautiful deep dish that made me feel things no man has ever been able to reproduce. And I was totally cool with that. This pizza and I had something special.

“Bless you,” Seven sat back down on the couch and took a piece for himself, “My god, MC. This is a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Who am I watching my girlish figure for?” I scoffed, shoving a piece into my mouth, “Screw that. Life’s too short to not enjoy kickass pizza without the guilt.”

“That’s a philosophy to live by, MC,” Seven applauded, “Good for you.”

“But then,” I admitted, “I go to yoga and then, I spend a little extra time on a treadmill and…”

“No,” he shut me up, “Don’t you dare go down that route. Not when we were doing so good. You are just fine the way you are. This pizza isn’t going to kill you. It’s what Jesus would want for you.”

“If this is the part where you’re going to try to convert me, Seven,” I giggled, “You don’t have to. But thank you. The words of encouragement are nice.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Seven took great pride in himself. And even bigger pride in the way he could switch tangents like it was nothing, “Hey! Guess what Saeran told me?”

“What did Saeran tell you?” I wondered, indulging myself with a little pizza.

“He said he got me a cleaner for my apartment,” he began, putting a knot in my stomach. Dammit, Saeran, I thought we said we were keeping that a secret.

“What do you mean?” I tried not to overreact too much, “Like…Someone’s going to clean your apartment?”

“Not quite,” Seven elaborated, “They’ll be doing kind of what you do, but for all of the classified documents I keep in that apartment. They’ll be going through what I have and organizing it for me, so I don’t have to. Isn’t he sweet?”

“Oh,” I let out a heavy sigh of relief. It wasn’t about me. Good, “Yeah. Saeran seems like he cares, but he tries too hard to let people know he doesn’t care.”

“If that’s not Saeran in a nutshell,” he agreed, “But the main difference between you and them is that they’ll be sworn to secrecy and I can guarantee they’ll be signing an NDA before they get started. It’s cool, though. I’m pretty sure Saeran just called my assistant. That wouldn’t be too big of a problem. Vanderwood knows what to do.”

Huh…I guess I’ll have a friend. Neat, “And when is this cleaner supposed to come through? Just so I know you’re not being robbed.”

“Tomorrow sometime,” Seven figured, “Saeran was sick of the miss. And…If we’re being honest, I am, too. I’d love to be able to do something about it, but when I’m working, I get so hyper-focused on what I’m doing that…well…certain things go unnoticed. Like the pyramid of cans I made in my brief moment of downtime. Or in my hour long moment of distraction.”

“Seven,” I shook my head in sheer exasperation, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too much?”

“All the time!” he grinned from ear to ear. Can I keep him? Because I think I’m going to keep him, “Be careful, MC. If you’re not, I might hire you one day.”

“Maybe,” I bit the inside of my cheek. It’d be my pleasure, Seven. Little do you know, I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m not used to working with a partner, but whoever this Vanderwood person is, I’m sure we’ll get along. At least I hope so.

“Well,” Seven pushed himself up from my couch, “It’s always wonderful to see you, MC, but I’m sure you have a lot of work to do for tomorrow and I should be getting home. God only knows what Saeran’s doing while I’m not there. The places he’s putting my toothbrush, my pillowcase…”

“You’re exaggerating, Seven,” I assumed…hoped for his sake.

“I might be,” he shrugged, “But good luck with your commission tomorrow, MC!”

“Thank you,” my heart melted a little, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!”

And there he goes. Off to keep Saeran’s shenanigans in check and God knows what else he does in his free time. Meanwhile, I had his apartment to finish drafting up. As long as Vanderwood doesn’t get in my way, I’ll be fine.


	11. Making a Believer

I love writing my blog. I love tweaking the arrangement of my apartment every now and again. But damn, I loved getting commissions. Especially ones that lit a fire in my belly like this one. Seven’s office has become my white whale ever since I laid eyes on it. I needed to get in there and make it a home. And because I can’t let it sit next door doing nothing. It’d physically pain me.

I’m ready. I’m so ready. I had my plan drafted. I had a pin board. Never have I ever been so prepared for a project. And the best part? Seven had no idea. Although, he did say he’d hire me one day. Little did he know, he didn’t have to. I hired myself. I just hope he doesn’t get pissed off for taking matters into my own hands. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission in this case.

Knock, knock.

I slipped my shoes on and got my door, expecting to see my favorite spastic ball of energy on the other side. Instead, it was his exact counterpart, “Hi, Saeran.”

“Hi, MC,” Saeran stood in my door with a disinterested glaze in his eyes. The same one he had every other time I saw him, “You still want in Saeyoung’s office?”

“Yes, please,” I could hardly contain myself. I know I called Seven a spazz, but right now, I think that may be me…But on the way to Seven’s apartment, brilliance struck, “Hey, Saeran…?”

“What?” Saeran unlocked the door for me.

“Are you busy today?” I asked.

“Not really,” he droned, “Why?”

“Because,” I smiled sweetly, “It’d be really nice to have another pair of hands. You could help me.”

“Well,” Saeran thought it over, “I was going to binge a season of the Bachelorette, but what the hell?”

“Neat!” It’d be nice to have Saeran for a sounding board. And he’ll be able to help with the heavy lifting. This is going to be fun. I could feel it, “Before we can start, though, we need to make a trip.”

“Where?” he wondered, looking at me strange.

“You’ll see,” I grabbed a couple pairs of disposable gloves from my kitchen and headed out with Saeran on my hip. Today is going to be a good day.

Although, when we got to one of my favorite places, Saeran really started questioning my sanity, “A dumpster? Really?”

“This isn’t just any dumpster,” I set up an empty crate as a makeshift stepstool. I am not what one would call a tall person, “This is the best dumpster to pick in town. You’d be amazed at some of the shit people are throwing out. When they do, I take advantage of it.”

“MC,” Saeran’s blank stare burrowed a hole through me, “This is still a dumpster.”

“Some of my biggest scores have come from dumpsters,” I pointed out, “This dumpster in particular. I’m still in the market for a good, big ass bulletin board, if you ever find one.”

“MC,” he took my hand, keeping me from jumping in, “This is _still _a dumpster. Were you ever tested when you were younger? Should we put you and my brother on a buddy program?”

“No, I wasn’t,” I let him go, falling into the trash, “You’re just judgmental.”

“Because this is disgusting,” Saeran leaned against the wall of C&R, “I sure as hell hope you don’t think I’m getting in there.”

“To each their own,” I dug around, looking for anything we could possibly use today, “Besides, it’s the C&R dumpster. There really isn’t anything too gross in here. I mean, if people are getting rid of it anyway, why not? I do clean it up, Saeran. I’m not that gross.”

“One man’s trash, I guess,” he let it go.

“Don’t knock it too hard,” I chimed, “My bookshelf in my apartment? My big white one?”

“Yeah,” Saeran nodded, “What about it?”

“That came out of a dumpster,” I remembered getting that one, “In fact, I think that came from this dumpster, too. It used to be a dark, dark brown. I put a can of white paint on it and some trim I found outside a construction site that they were throwing out and look at it now. It’s cute as hell. It’s amazing what paint, wood glue, and a little imagination can do.”

“Hard to believe someone threw that out…” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was making a believer out of Saeran. I’ve done it again. I’ve converted someone. Dumpster diving isn’t gross! It’s like modern day treasure hunting! 

“Unfortunately,” I let out a heavy sigh of defeat, “It looks like C&R’s trash is either uneventful this week or someone’s already picked it clean.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Saeran offered me his hand, helping me out of my honey hole without any honey. 

“Looks like we’ll have to go real shopping then,” I pouted, “But first, we need to stop by my place.”

“For what?”

“I just crawled out of a dumpster, Saeran,” I explained, “Just because C&R’s trash is usually pretty clean doesn’t mean the dumpster itself is. I need a change of clothes and possibly a shower. Especially since we have to go to a real store for things now.”

“Alright.” Saeran and I left the C&R dumpster emptyhanded and headed back to my apartment. If I had intentions of digging through any more of them today, maybe I’d wait to change until I was done, but if the C&R dumpster is picked clean, I had no doubt in my mind that my other good spots were, too. But on a positive note, I made a believer out of Saeran with dumpster diving, so it’s not a total loss today.

Once I was all clean again, I took Saeran by the hand and the two of us went off. Now, we’d get to go to my other favorite place in the world. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I had such a soft spot for the container store. All those beautiful storage solutions in all different shapes and sizes. I couldn’t help myself. Swooning was practically mandatory in a place like this. I had almost the same feeling when I’d go into IKEA, but something about this place satisfied my soul like nobody’s business.

“Isn’t it great, Saeran?” I let out a heavy, dreamy sigh, “Look at them all.”

“MC,” Saeran blinked a couple times, “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but know this comes from a place of love.”

“What is it?” I found the section of filing cabinets. We’ll probably leave with a couple of these, too.

“You’re so damn weird,” he shook his head, holding his face in his hands, “It’s no wonder he likes you.”

That kind of caught me off guard, “What? I mean, I’ve heard people say it before and I had a little bit of a feeling he did, but…”

“Well,” Saeran admitted, “It’s true, “Why else would he find any excuse to hang out with you?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, running my fingers down the filing cabinets, “Mutual boredom?”

“No, MC,” he clarified, “Saeyoung likes you. Like…Hardcore likes you. But you need to be careful with him.”

“Why’s that?” I wondered, “Let me guess. He’s skittish. That wouldn’t surprise me.”

“It’s not just that,” Saeran explained, “He’s not exactly what one would call normal. But you knew that, right?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” I nodded, “That one’s obvious.”

“It’s a lot deeper than that,” he went back for a big flat cart. Bless him, “His head is a lot more screwed up than he’ll ever let you know about. If you push back and show him you’re interested in any way, shape, or form, he’ll fight you. He’ll start pulling away. That’s just the way his pattern works.”

“Oh,” my heart already broke. Oh, Seven…My pain in the ass neighbor. One of the most genuinely sweet human beings I’ve ever met. How messy is the mess on your shoulders?

“Don’t give me that,” Saeran brushed me off, “We don’t need the pity look on your face. You’re too cute for that.”

“Sorry.”

“You could do it,” he stared down at his feet, “I think you could break that pattern.”

“Me?” I wondered, “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve already gotten close to him,” Saeran pointed out, “That doesn’t happen, MC. I’m his brother and he even keeps me at arm’s length. His friends? They hardly know anything about them. He doesn’t make any effort to see them unless they ask him to. You two walked into a porn theater and you can still look at each other from across the table. You breached one of his most sacred traditions and lived to tell the tale.”

“What’s that?” I gave him a look, thinking about all the adventures Seven and I have been through.

“Post work pancakes,” he went on, “He doesn’t get pancakes with anyone other than me. Just because I wasn’t up to it. That doesn’t happen. He tells no one about that diner. It’s his special place that’s open at two in the morning where he can turn off. Do you understand where I’m coming from here?”

“I think so,” I nodded, “You really think I could break his pattern?”

“I do,” Saeran sat down on the empty flat cart, “But could you do me a favor, MC? And I would consider this a great personal favor?”

“What is it?” I asked.

“When you break that pattern,” he twiddled his thumbs in his lap, “Could you not break _him _in the process? Because with someone like Saeyoung, that’d be an easy thing to do. He’s pretty fragile.”

“I kind of got that feeling from him,” I agreed, “I won’t. At least I’ll try not to.”

“Thank you…” Going by Seven’s patterns, it wouldn’t surprise me if his twin was the same way. When I met Saeran, I never thought he’d ever open up to me like this. And about Seven, of all people. From what I’ve seen, he’s not exactly one to wear his heart on his sleeve or to have much of that heart for his brother. Seven was right. He tries hard not to let other people know how much he cares, but he really does. He cares a lot. And if I wasn’t afraid of his reaction, I might give Saeran a hug…

“Well?” I had to bring this back around and make things a little less depressing, “Should we get back to work?”

“I guess so…”

And so, Saeran and I did just that. I picked out a few rolling sets of chrome metal drawers that I loved being able to see myself in. They’re beautiful. I might have to pick some of these up if I decide to redo my own apartment in the near future. Although, after this project and possibly Zen’s apartment, I’m going to need a bit of a break. One of those projects is getting a blog post about it. The other one is Seven’s office. For the sake of his privacy, I’m sure Seven wouldn’t be too happy about me posting about his office with all the classified information in it. Here nor there.

I will say this, though. I’m impressed that Saeran started to get into it. Not only did I get him to believe in dumpster diving, but I might have a new assistant. If his plans for the day were binging an entire season of the Bachelorette, it’d be a great thing to get him out of the house once in a while. Especially if it meant us getting to hang out some more. Sure, where his brother is a bundle of spastic energy, he’s a bundle of salt, but Saeran was growing on me. I could hang out with him for eight hours at a crack.

After the drawers from the container store and a few pieces of cork (They were perfect size. If I arrange them just right on the wall, they’d make a hell of a bulletin board for Seven’s office.), Saeran and I headed back to my building and got to work. We had a few other odds and ends to pull the room together, but for now, we were focusing on the main room. Maybe we’ll screw around in the kitchen if we have time. The bathroom is sacred. The bedroom was nothing but boxes, so why bother? The color pallete was simple. Reflective chrome, black, and soft yellows. Enough to add some color, but it’s also yellow. Yellow was such a happy color and it’d work in here. 

By the time Saeran and I were done, everything matched. I felt like I could touch things in here without catching something. Granted, the trash can was heaped over, but for the most part, it boiled down to cleaning the place. Maybe Seven really did need a maid in here. Although, the little decorative things were nice, too. As Saeran took the trash down to the chute, I sat down on the futon, looking over my good work. It’s really too bad I can’t do a blog post on this project. Seven’s office might be one of my favorite projects to date, my own apartment aside.

“Who the hell are you?” a man’s voice boomed from the doorway. And I’m here by myself without any means of self-defense. Besides, this guy looked like he could slam me through the wall if I’m not careful.

“I didn’t touch any of the documents!” I threw my hands up, already feeling the sweat form on my forehead, “I didn’t touch anything I wasn’t supposed to!”

“You didn’t answer me,” he shot me a glare, “Who…are you?”

“Who are you?” I freaked, “How am I supposed to know you’re not here to rob the place?”

“I asked you first,” the man stood his ground, “What’s your name and why are you here?”

“MC,” I told him, figuring it’d be best not to argue with him, “I’m…”

“_You’re_ MC?” his glare softened. He knew me. I don’t know how he knew me, but he knew me. Nobody goes from kill to cuddle that quickly. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, still a little nervous.

“Hi, Vanderwood,” Saeran came back.

“Hey, Saeran,” the man gave him a nod, “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Never met her a day in my life.”

“Saeran, you little shit!” I snapped, “We just spent the day together! You know who I am!”

“Yeah,” Saeran giggled to himself, “She’s alright. MC, this is Vanderwood. He’s Saeyoung’s assistant…for lack of a better word.”

“Assistant, nanny, maid, bodyguard,” Vanderwood thought, “I wear many hats for him. Saeran, does Seven know she’s even here?”

“Not a clue,” Saeran told him, “This is going to be a happy surprise.”

“You know he’s coming here today, right?” Vanderwood asked, “Like…He should be here around four. We’re going to go through the bedroom.”

“Oh…” I got up from the futon, “I think I should be going…”

“Ok, MC,” Saeran sent me off, “See you later.”

“It was nice meeting you, Vanderwood,” I smiled a bit.

“You, too, MC,” Vanderwood reciprocated, “It’ll be nice to finally put a face to the name. You should hear Seven gush about you.”

“So I understand,” I caught a hint of a smirk on Saeran’s face from the corner of my eye, “Later!”

“Bye!”

I walked next door and threw myself into my couch. I’m wiped. A nap sounded absolutely heavenly, but I think I’ll caffeine this one out. If I knew what Zen’s apartment looked like, I could start drafting that one out, too. One at a time. One little project at a time. It’s been a long day for little, old me. I think I’ll treat myself with that nap. Screw the caffeine. That’ll be for after. Instead, I laid my head down on the arm of my couch and clocked out.

A little while later, I woke up to the sound of a couple ticks at my front door. I grabbed an energy drink out of my fridge and answered my door. Should’ve seen this coming, “Hi, Seven.”

“Hi, MC.” Never did I ever think I’d see Seven with no emotion on his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was Saeran in front of me, “Do you think I could have a word with you?”

“Sure,” I let him in, “What’s on your mind?”

“Did you by chance redecorate my entire office?” Someone doesn’t waste time, does he?

“Maybe…” I chewed on my bottom lip, “Depending on your reaction…Why do you…?”

Without another word, Seven threw his arms around me, hugging me tight. What the hell…? This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it, “Thank you, MC. I didn’t realize how bad it was until Vanderwood and I cleaned out the document room. And now, it’s so much more user friendly! It’s like you do this for a living!”

“I do, Seven,” I giggled, relieved he wasn’t pissed off, “I know what I’m doing. But you’re very welcome.”

“You know,” Seven thought, “Why don’t you let me take you out? Just as my way of saying thank you.”

“You mean…” I wondered, “Are you saying you’re wanting to take me on a date, Seven?”

“Not quite,” he clarified, his cheeks turning red, “But kind of.”

I gave it a thought or two, “No accidental gay porn?”

“No,” Seven laughed, “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about it.”

  
“You might have,” I teased, “But I never agreed to anything.”

“Come on, MC,” he whined, “No more talking about the accidental gay porn incident.”

“Fine,” I allowed, “Ok. We can go on that date. That’s fine.”

“Wait…” Seven froze, “What?”

Saeran told me not to break him, but to break his patterns, “Yeah. Let’s do it. Does eight o'clock work for you?”

“Uh…” I don’t think Seven knew where to go with this, “Yeah…That works.”

“Ok,” I chirped, “I’ll see you tonight then.”

  
“Yeah…” Oh, Seven…You are a blank page right now, aren’t you? But you’re cute, so we let that slide, “See you tonight…”

Even though I said I wouldn’t break him, I’m almost a hundred percent sure Seven’s brain just fizzled out. Was he really expecting rejection? No. I’m not a heartless bitch. I wouldn’t do that to him. If he wanted to take me out, we’ll let him take me out. But then, reality set in for me, too. I’m going on a date with Seven tonight…


	12. Warning: Startles Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little heads up. This chapter is cuter than hell (in some parts) and has one of my favorite lines I've ever written in the history of my sixteen years of writing. And I'll give you a little hint if you want something to look for, Saeran says it. If you can guess what it is, you win a virtual high five...and maybe I'll do a little one shot for you. ;)

If we’re being honest, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I had a date with Seven tonight. It feels like yesterday I was bitching at him for blasting Mr. Brightside at the ass crack of dawn. But now, he was taking me on a date. Like…A proper date. And all because I did a little tweaking to his office. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of something more. Something special deep down in his little heart of hearts. But I still didn’t know quite what this evening would entail. It is Seven.

Maybe we’re just going to the diner. Honestly, I’d be totally cool with that. Something I didn’t have to put real pants on for and I could gorge myself without any judgment. And I liked when we went to the diner. That meant me having pancakes at an unorthodox time of the day. Although, under regular circumstances, that would mean midnight and Seven just finished a job. But that’s ok. Maybe I should text him. That’d be a good idea. But the question is, would he tell me?

I’m sure he would, if I asked him nicely. I shot him a quick text. But because I was texting Seven, of course, I couldn’t get a straight answer. Instead of a place, Seven texted me back a series of numbers. Goddammit, Seven. All I wanted to know was where we were going for dinner tonight. Is that so difficult? Oh, well. Nothing a quick search wouldn’t figure out. Obviously, these were coordinates. Hopefully, if I put them into Maps, it’ll tell me exactly where in town this was.

Oh, holy shit, Seven…I didn’t expect the Rose Garden. It’s one of the more high end places in town. It’s classy as shit. And of all people, _Seven _was taking me. I’ve seen this boy lick his plate clean at the diner after he finished his short stack. If he’s looking to impress me tonight, color me impressed. He didn’t have to impress me. He’s already got me wrapped around his finger without even knowing it. And if we play our cards right, he won’t know it. He’ll only feel it. And that’s all that matters.

Despite it being one of the higher end restaurants in town, I didn’t have to be overly formal. I still didn’t have to wear real pants. Instead, I went with short, lacy black leggings and a more casual dress. I’m feeling…Maybe blue? Blue sounded nice. I had a turquoise dress in the black of my closet that didn’t get to come out too often that looked pretty damn good on me, if I do say so myself. This, the leggings, and a long, gray cardigan. It was supposed to cool off a little tonight and I’d rather not freeze entirely. There. If I dare be so bold, I look pretty damn cute. 

After a few finishing touches and finding wherever the hell I put my black flats, I took a seat on my couch and waited for Seven to show up. Thankfully, I had Pinterest on my phone. I could get started on the pin board for Zen’s place. After Seven’s office, I did need a little bit of a break, but call me a workaholic. A mother’s work is never done and every project was my child.

Let’s see…Zen. I met him the other day. He seemed like a minimalist. I’ve always wanted to do a full on minimal space. Maybe monochromatic? That could turn out perfect in the right space. I just hope I have the raw material to work with. A little black and white action with some gray accents here and there? Oh, yeah. It’s very film noir and I loved it. And if I can get Zen on board with it, I’ll be a happy girl. Big furniture could be white. Little furniture could be black. Accent pillows could be gray. But if he’s got a studio apartment, it could get a little tricky. The idea would be to make the space feel bigger, not smaller. 

Knock, knock.

And there’s my ride. I got up from my couch and checked the peephole. Surprise, surprise. Guess who was on the other side? I’d hate to keep him waiting, “Hi, Seven.”

“Hi,” Seven stood awkwardly in my doorway. That’s weird. Even for him, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Let’s go.”

“Ok.”

And that’s how our night began. Saeran was right. If I did any sort of pushing back and gave him hope that the relationship wasn’t one sided, he’d get weird. Weirder than he already was. By the time we got to our table, he still wouldn’t say a word. When Seven’s quiet, it gave me the same vibes as when my dog stopped eating when I was a kid. I don’t want to have to have Seven put down, too. I liked him.

“Seven…?” I gave him a little nudge under the table, “Are you ok?”

He sat quiet with a desperate look in his eye. There’s something going on. And he’s not telling me. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Usually, I couldn’t get him to shut up. This? This had me nervous. But then, out of nowhere, my phone beeped. And things only keep getting weirder.

_I don’t go on dates very often._

I’m shocked.

_This is a rarity for me, so talking is a little difficult._

_Do you think we could do this for a while first?_

_-707_

So, it’s more than just Seven playing shy. This is a full on social anxiety tick. I’ve seen it before with a few other bloggers. Granted, when we’re online, we’re talking to our readers from the comfort of our desks. When we go out and about, it’s a little more intimidating, given the volume. I have no doubt in my mind that Seven’s the same way. I opened up the text box on my phone.

_Absolutely._

_I’d be more than happy to meet you halfway._

_-MC_

It was enough to make Seven smile. And that’s all that matters at this point. As long as he’s comfortable. But then, he put his face back in his phone.

_Thank you for understanding._

_If you’re ok, can you still talk?_

_I like the sound of your voice._

_-707_

“Ok,” I nodded, a little flattered.

Beep.

_Why are you so good to me, MC?_

_-707_

“Because,” I explained, taking a little bit of a risk here. I know Saeran said that if I push back, he’s going to pull away. We’ll see about that, “I like you, Seven. Why else?”

Beep.

_But why?_

_-707_

I felt a sudden ache in my chest. And I didn’t like it. Oh, Seven, Seven, Seven…How broken are you? It’s alright, though. Because whether you wanted to know it or not, you have me, “Well…You’re sweet. You’re smart as hell. You’re cute as a button. I don’t know, Seven. There’s more to you than most people see. I feel like I’ve known you all my life, yet I hardly know you at all at the same time. You’re just…You’re different, you know? Yeah, I’ve been around some of the most beautiful models in the world. Some of the most educated people. But they’re not you. And I’d take one of you before I took a million of them.”

Seven stared hard into his screen, not a hundred percent sure how to take that.

Taptaptaptaptap.

Beep.

_If there was more than one of me in this world, it would implode on itself._

_-707_

Good. He had me worried for a second. Like he wasn’t in there. I giggled a little bit, “That’s true. But…I don’t know. You’re more than just my exasperating, pain in the ass neighbor, Seven. That’s half the reason why I snuck into your office and gave it some personality. I don’t do that out of the goodness of my heart for just anyone. You’re special to me.”

Suddenly, the life drained from his face. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to throw up. Slowly, but surely, he opened his mouth, “I…Bathroom…”

“Ok,” I let him go, “Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Geuge naega museowoss eo…” Seven mumbled to himself, taking off like a bat out of Hell toward the bathroom. 

And so, I sat and waited.

And waited…

And waited…

I hope he’s ok. Did I maybe push a little too hard? Damn my honesty. But it was all true. In the few months I’ve known Seven, he has grown on me. Whether he likes it or not. But I didn’t think he’d freak about me wearing my heart on my sleeve just a little bit. I could’ve flat out told him I loved him (even I wasn’t entirely sure on that one), but I didn’t. But in these trying times and with Seven having been in the bathroom for the last twenty minutes, I think it’s time to call in reinforcements. Not necessarily to come and join us, but just for a little advice.

“Let me guess,” Saeran didn’t even say hello. It’s almost as if he knew, “You pushed back, didn’t you, MC?”

“Yeah…” I hung my head, “But just a little.”

“And now,” he assumed, “He’s holed up in the bathroom, isn’t he?”

“Are you psychic, Saeran?” I wondered, starting to sweat a bit.

“No,” Saeran confessed, “I’m on the other line with Saeyoung. He called me saying he was holed up in the bathroom. His words exactly. Whatever you said scared the shit out of him. Normally, I’d be down for a little Saeyoung freak out, but this got to him more than normal. What did you do?”

“I kind of pushed back,” I reiterated, “He asked me why I liked him and I told him.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah,” my voice broke, “This wasn’t what I wanted, Saeran. I should’ve thought it through better.”

“It’s not your fault he’s got a screw loose, MC,” Saeran settled me, “I know you didn’t mean to do this. You can’t control how he’s going to react to shit. Especially someone like him. His brain is a game of Russian roulette while he thinks he’s playing regular roulette. No one knows when that gun’s going to go off.”

“So…” I pulled myself together, “What do I do? Is he going to come back or is Seven already slipping out the back window?”

“I’ll talk him down from the ledge,” he promised, “He’ll be back to the table shortly. But you want to know what’ll make him a little more comfortable?”

“God, yes.”

“I want you to go through your phone,” Saeran suggested, “And find a meme. Any meme will do. Old memes, new memes. Doesn’t matter. Saeyoung is internet trash from the word go and nothing will put him at ease quite like a meme. If you want to go above and beyond, make him one. But just a forewarning, if you do make him a meme, then there’s a chance you’re his forever.”

“Thank you, Saeran,” I smiled, “Go take care of your brother. I think I got it from here.”

“No worries,” Saeran hung up on me to go back to talking Seven down from the ledge. So, if I show him a meme, it’ll be enough to get him to calm down. But if I make him a meme, he’s mine forever. Interesting. I scrolled through my camera roll and unfortunately, I didn’t find a single meme. They weren’t really my thing. I know they’re mostly unavoidable, but I think I might have found one that made no sense, but it might just work. Mostly because Seven himself makes no sense more often than not. And with a little editing, I think I might have him hooked.

I kept an eye out on the bathroom doors to see if Seven was going to come back out. I hope so. Even if we have to continue our entire dinner through his phone, I don’t care. As long as he comes back out of that bathroom, I’ll take it as a win. This wouldn’t even crack my top ten worst dates. And my worst one ended with me having to wash _his _puke out of my hair. Good times. We don’t talk about it.

However, I could rest a little easier. Seven, despite his skittishness, walked out of the bathroom and sat back down in front of me, “Hi, Seven.”

“Hi…” his voice was a little hoarse, but not too worse for wear. 

I did a quick tap on my phone screen and held back a smile, “Check your phone.”

Seven pulled his phone out of his pocket and immediately, his face lit up at the image of a long legged frog riding on a unicycle that bared a striking resemblance to a certain someone I know, “MC…”

“Hmm?” I bit the inside of my cheek.

Slowly, but surely, a smile crept across his face, “Did you seriously make me dat boi?”

“I might have,” I had no idea that thing had a name, but I didn’t care. It made Seven smile. And by the looks of it, he could breathe a little easier, too. My work here is done. Thank you, Saeran.

“It’s perfect,” Seven awed, instantly changing it to his phone’s lock screen.

“Are you ok?” I worried, shaking the sillies out.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I got a little lost in my head for a minute, but I’m good now. Thank you…How are you?”

“I’m good,” I assured, taking his hand, “How about we get out of here and go back to my place?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Seven agreed, “But no porn theaters this time.”

“Deal.” On our way out, I noticed Seven had yet to let go of my hand. And the entire way home, he didn’t let go of my hand. Whatever you said to him, Saeran, remind me to kiss you the next time I see you. Although, I think I should probably kiss your brother first. 

This poor boy had been through enough tonight. The least we could do was kick back in my living room and watch a movie. There was one I had watched all the time as a kid and a good, warm, fuzzy nostalgia trip would be just what we both needed. It was about a witch and a wizard and a simple girl that lived in the town. But it had been one of my favorites since I could remember. Although, in a shocking twist of events, just as the girl and the wizard met, I looked down at Seven, sleeping soundly on my tummy. I gently kissed his forehead and readjusted our position. Good night, Seven…


	13. Awkward Mornings

Seven’s kind of cute when all of his manic energy gets turned off. Don’t get me wrong. The manic, in the right context, is great, too, but this? When he’s sleeping soundly on my couch in my living room? This was nice, too. I’ll take it. After last night, I didn’t think I’d ever get something like this. Damn, I’m glad I was wrong. Possibly just as good, I’m glad my coffee pot’s timer worked. Because coffee sounded like a hell of an idea. I leaned over my island, content with the world with my coffee in hand. As much as I could probably go back to sleep, I just wanted to be here like this. 

Although, slowly, but surely, I wasn’t the only one awake in my apartment. Seven opened his eyes and got a decent look around, “Where the hell…?”

“Good morning,” I smiled sweetly.

“Morning,” he rubbed his eyes, “MC, what am I doing at your place?”

“We came back here last night,” I filled him in, “After we left the restaurant, we came here, watched a movie, and you crashed on the couch. It had gotten late and it’s not like I was going to wake you.”

“Thank you,” Seven sat up a little better, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve gotten in the last month.”

“You’re welcome,” I gave him a little nod, “You want any coffee while it’s still hot?”

“No,” he turned me down, “I should probably call Saeran, though. Let him know I’m still alive.”

“I’m sure he knows,” I settled him, “Saeran can take care of himself once in a while.”

“Thanks for letting me stay here, MC,” Seven got up from the couch, “But I think I’m just going to head home.”

“Ok,” I wasn’t going to hold him hostage here. Seven was free to come and go any time he wanted to. However, I was feeling particularly brave this morning and took a monumental leap, “Do you think we could ever do this again?”

“With or without my panic attack in the bathroom?” he wondered.

“Preferably without.”

  
“I don’t know, MC,” Seven sighed out, “Maybe. It’ll be a while.”

“You know where I live,” I pointed out, “You know where I sleep. You’ve been on my bed.”

“That I have,” he laughed a little to himself.

“You’re a mess, Seven,” I teased him.

“Sister,” Seven admitted, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“Lucky for you,” I took a good sip from my coffee, “I’m pretty good when it comes to messes. You should’ve seen the apartment next door before I got a hold of it.”

“I heard the guy’s kind of a hermit, though,” he smiled, “But rumor has it, that place is spotless now. And a hell of a lot more user friendly.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I busted my ass in there, but I had a little help with the furniture and some of the documents. When it came down to it, all it needed was a little cleaning.”

“Thank you, MC,” Seven slipped his shoes on, “Maybe we will do this again.”

“I hope so,” I followed him out, “Will I see you later?”

“Depends on if I get a job or not,” he leaned against the door.

“Ok.” Let him come to me. That’s what Saeran said, “In that case, I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” Seven got into the elevator and I retreated to the safety of my apartment. That was kind of weird, right? Seven just slept on my couch and I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable in my life. We were so good. But last night, he had completely turned off. He was fine. Now…He was a total deer in the headlights. Let him come to me.

I needed a distraction. One that’ll hold my attention all day. Fortunately, I had just the thing. Thank you, Zen. Because today, I’m going to his place. Getting out of the house and out of my head for a while could do wonders for me. Now, where did I put my phone? Zen was kind (and possibly arrogant) enough to put his number in my phone. As a pure and innocent and strictly professional gesture, I’m sure.

“Hello?” Zen answered after the first couple rings. Jesus, was he posting?

“Hi, Zen,” I chimed, “It’s MC.”

“Hi, MC,” he perked up, “What’s up? What’s the occasion I get to hear your lovely voice this morning?”

“If you’re that excited to hear my voice,” I giggled, “I have some even better news. I got some free time today and I was thinking about coming by your place to look over the space and do that consultation. Is that ok?”

“Absolutely!” Zen insisted, “I mean, I have a photoshoot this morning, but I should be back by this afternoon. How does that work for you?”

“That’s fine,” I allowed, “I’ll be there around, say, three o'clock?”

“Works for me,” he approved, “I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.” I hung up with Zen and tossed my phone aside. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to start on Ze’s place. After I did Seven’s office, I forgot how much I loved freelancing. And how good I am at it. I just hope I get to go monochromatic in Zen’s apartment. Fingers crossed. If it’s a small space, I might cry, but I’ll manage. I pulled my place together nicely. Besides, if I couldn’t pull that off, my whole blog would be a sham. It is very on-brand for me. 

Hold on…Did I go monochrome for Seven’s place, too? No. He was more industrial. He was grayscales and chrome and soft yellows. I have a feeling that I’d be going with a lot of natural woods in Zen’s place. Maybe I could take a little looksee at Pinterest. Something minimalistic sounded like a good idea. I like it. After a quick shower and a few hours on Pinterest (because falling down rabbit holes couldn’t be easier than Pinterest), I headed off to Zen’s place

Wow. For someone like Zen, the building was…Kind of lackluster. Then again, I have no room to talk. I live in one of the nicest buildings in town. My building was just this side of being better than owning a house. Regardless, I’ve taken on worse challenges. I could do it. Now, Zen said he lived in apartment number two. At this point, I just hope he’s home. There was a motorcycle parked in the parking lot and I think I remember seeing that at the yoga studio. It had to be Zen’s.

Knock, knock.

No turning back now. I stood and waited outside, bouncing on my toes to keep my nerves in check. If I’m moving, I don’t know if I’m nervous shaking. It’s a good way of tricking my body into thinking it’s calmer than what it really is. But then, I heard footsteps on the other side. Please tell me I got the right door. I don’t want to have to deal with Zen’s neighbors.

“Hey, MC,” Zen opened the door, setting me at ease. Thank God, “Please. Come in.”

“Hi,” I walked in, already getting a quick assessment of Zen’s apartment. Just the living room alone was pretty big, all things considered, “It’s cozy.”

“Sorry,” he took a seat on the futon. Oh, dear…With Seven’s place, I was totally fine with putting a futon in it. Mostly because I knew he wasn’t going to have much for company coming into his office. I doubt he ever brings clients to his office. But Zen seemed much more social. I already know what piece of furniture I’m burning first, “I just got back and I didn’t have much of a chance to clean up.”

“It’s fine,” I let it go, “I’ll take care of it.”

“A designer _and _a maid?” Zen smirked a bit, “What did I do to deserve this?”

“No, no, no,” I stopped him, “I’m not your maid. I’m not cleaning your apartment today. For now, I’m going to look around and see what I can and can’t do. The next time I come back is when I’ll do all the tweaking and hard work. I did Seven’s office in a day, so your place shouldn’t be…”

“Wait a sec,” he stared at me in total disbelief, “You did _Seven’s office?_”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “He was my last commission. Didn’t realize I was going to do his office, but by the end of it, he seemed pretty satisfied.”

Enough for us to go on a date last night as payment. And possibly another one, if he can get over the awkwardness from this morning. Zen held his face in his hand, “He let someone else in his office…How do you even know where it is? I thought Seven kept things under lock and key. Then, that lock and key was kept under a keypad and a retinal scan. And that keypad was kept in eight layers of cement and at the bottom of the ocean.”

“If he’s that secretive about it,” I figured, “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you how I know where it is. I mean, if you were to never come to my place, I guess I could tell you, but I’m sure you’d end up coming over eventually.”

“I’m guessing he’s across the hall from you.”

“Nope,” I shook my head, “But that’s here nor there. Can we get back to the project please?”

“Sure,” Zen shook off the fact that he was getting Seven’s sloppy seconds, “So, what’s the plan?”

“I was thinking a lot of light, natural woods,” I sat next to him. Oh, god…Even the cushion was hella uncomfortable. I could feel the metal bar under my ass and…Oh, Zen…Please tell me there’s a bedroom here, too. Because if this is a studio, my heart breaks for you. Although, I did see another door that led to a bedroom around the corner. Oh, thank God, “Some lighter grays. A few pops of green here and there in varying shades.”

“Yeah,” he thought it over, “Yeah…I like that. When can you start?”

“Well,” I didn’t really have anything going on today. Not to mention, I needed to get out of my head for a while. What better way than to throw myself headfirst into work? It’s not like I haven’t been working on a pin board for this before I even saw it. But it was too late in the day to start. No, not necessarily. I bet I could get the living room done today. By the looks of it, his kitchen was a ghost town, so odds are, I won’t have to do much there, if anything. I could finish the living room today (and the kitchen, if I was feeling spicy) and do the bedroom and bathroom tomorrow, “Would you be ok if I started today? I mean, I need to do a little bit of shopping before I really got started.”

“That’d be fine,” Zen allowed, “It’s a rare occasion, but I’m free for the rest of the day, if you need any help.”

“Actually,” I giggled a little, “My last assistant is probably free today, too. Unless he’s ass deep in Cupcake Wars, but I’ll give him a call first.”

“Wow,” he scoffed, “You’re ok with your assistant taking days off just to watch Cupcake Wars?”

“I wouldn’t say it quite like that,” I admitted, “Because my assistant isn’t even officially my assistant. It’s not like I have him on a payroll. Or that I even officially call him my assistant. He just gave me a hand yesterday. If you know Seven, you probably know Saeran, too.”

“Yeah,” Zen nodded, “Now, the whole Cupcake Wars thing makes sense. But I didn’t think Saeran would be down for something like that.”

“He’s the one that had to let me into Seven’s office in the first place,” I went on, “If he didn’t, I couldn’t have given Seven the surprise of a nicely decorated and much more functional office. But Saeran was definitely a help. I don’t think I could’ve done it without him. Hold on. I’m going to give him a call and see if he’ll help me again.”

“Ok,” he let me go, “Good luck.”

I don’t think I’ll need it, but I appreciated the sentiment. I stepped outside and scrolled through my recent calls. Fortunately (yet simultaneously not), Saeran was at the top of the list. Hopefully, he’ll say yes. It was fun doing Seven’s office with him yesterday and it’ll be nice to have a shoulder to lean on. Especially after what happened last night. And this morning. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Saeran,” I greeted him, “Are you busy today?”

“What do you want, MC?” Saeran droned. I think I might have committed mortal sin and woke him up from a nap.

“I got another commission,” I explained, “An actual paying commission. And I was wondering if you’d want to come help me again. Since we worked so well together yesterday.”

“Can’t,” he shot me down, “I got other shit to do today.”

Sounded like it, Mr. Sleepy. I handled Saeran just like I handled Seven. Let them both come to me, “Ok. Well…Maybe you could stop by later. Because it’d be nice to have another pair of hands.”

“Sorry, MC,” Saeran stood his ground, “I’m kind of tied up here.”

“Ok,” I dropped it, “That’s fine. I can get someone else. My client said he’d help me out, too, so…”

“He?” That caught his attention, “Who’s your new client, MC?”

“A friend of your brother’s,” I told him, “I met him at yoga the other day.”

“Oh, God…” Saeran groaned in annoyance, “It’s Zen, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I giggled, “How did you know?”

“Because out of all of Saeyoung’s friends,” he pointed out, “Zen would be the only one who would even consider doing yoga. Well…Except for maybe Jumin’s assistant, but from what I understand, she could probably kill a man with her bare hands, so maybe yoga’s not her poison of choice.”

“You sound like you could do without Zen,” I teased.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say I hate the guy,” Saeran clarified, “But I wouldn’t say he’s my favorite person in the world either. He’s kind of a douche.”

“I understand where the vibe comes from,” I agreed, “But deep down, I think he’s got a heart of gold. He means well.”

“That’s Zen in a nutshell,” he applauded, “Very good, MC. You’ve pinpointed him. Now, you find his weakness, take him out, and we’ll all be home in time for dinner.”

“Jesus Christ, Saeran,” I gasped, “Are you ok? Do you need to talk?”

“You don’t have that kind of time,” Saeran let me go, “Sorry I can’t join in the fun today, MC, but don’t keep him waiting.”

“Got it,” I nodded.

“Bye.”

Click.

Well…At least he said bye. I kind of expected Saeran to be the type to hang up on people. But that’s here nor there. Dammit. I don’t have my favorite assistant with me today. That sucks, but I’ll be fine. I got this handled. If all else fails, I do have Zen here, too. I’m sure he can help me just as well as what Saeran could. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and went back inside. Maybe there were a few things I could do now without even having to do any shopping. At least I hope so. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck in that department, so I was going to have to go shopping anyway. To make matters worse, none of the dumpsters in town had anything I was looking for. However, there were a few thrift stores that usually worked like a charm for me. I’m not looking to do too much vintage in Zen’s living room. Maybe I could save that for his bedroom. That’ll be a project for tomorrow. On the plus side, I’ll be able to blog this project!

By the time I got back, Zen had already thrown out his futon. Thank God. The thought of carrying that piece of shit out to the dumpster filled me with nothing but existential dread. Honestly, if I would’ve known Zen had this futon, I might have been able to salvage it for Seven’s office. With better cushioning, though. I love you, Seven and you sure as hell don’t deserve that.

Then, it dawned on me. I’m not sure if I meant that as a figure of speech or not. Last night hit me harder than I thought it did. Or now that the dust has settled, I’m finally getting a clear view of what may be ahead of me. I know Saeran told me to let Seven come to me, but after this morning…I don’t think that’ll ever happen. Seven’s too timid, too skittish. Heaven forbid if anyone gets close to him. I just want to break the cycle.

“MC?” Zen wondered, “You doing ok?”

“Yeah,” I brushed him off, “I’m fine. Why?”

“You don’t seem fine,” he pointed out, “You seem down. Well…Not really down, but just kind of…off.”

“I wouldn’t say off,” I came clean, “But…”

“You want to talk?” Zen offered me a spot at his kitchen table, “I hate seeing a lady in distress when there’s something I could possibly do for her.”

Now, I could understand why Saeran wasn’t too keen on him. Zen’s the type to thrive on being the white knight, isn’t he? Well…If we’re being honest, I really could use a friend. And that’s what Saeran was supposed to be for me, but apparently, he’s got other things going on. That’s ok, though. I understand. He has a life outside of me, too. Just like Seven. 

“It’s just that…” I began, chewing on my bottom lip, “I went on a date with Seven last night.”

“Really?” Zen gasped, “Seven doesn’t seem like the type to go on a date with anyone. I couldn’t see him doing romance.”

“Well,” I winced, taking a seat across from him, “I’m not a hundred percent sure how it went. If someone were to ask me, I don’t think I could give them a pass or fail. It’s just…It’s a purgatorial answer.”

“Seven is a mystery,” he assumed, “What happened?”

“Things were going kind of good,” I told him, “We were talking. Everything was ok. I mean, we were mostly texting each other from across the table, but he was having a hard time formulating words, so texting each other was the next best thing. Then, he kind of freaked out on me. He asked me why I was so nice to him and when I said it was because I liked him, it…I don’t know.”

“Seven’s a massive hermit, MC,” Zen explained, “That’s probably why. He’s not really used to affection and you probably spooked him. For as long as I’ve known Seven, he’s never been able to really handle himself around women. Especially cute ones like yourself.”

“Seriously?” I chuckled a bit, “I’m sitting here pouring my heart out about my date with Seven and you take that as your opportunity to hit on me?”

“I’m not hitting on you,” he promised, “Merely stating a fact. And it’s true. Seven can’t talk to women on a serious and normal level. If he’s screwing around with zero interest in her, then he’s fine. But as soon as she shows any interest in him…”

“He clams right up,” I remembered all too well, “And it leads us to only talking through text. But he did ask me if I’d still talk.”

“Why?”

“He liked the sound of my voice,” I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest, “And that’s ok. He’s not the first person to tell me that. Apparently, I have a soothing voice.”

“You do,” Zen agreed, “But was that the first time you and Seven went out?”

“No,” I shook my head, “We just went to a party a couple weeks ago. I figured if he could handle himself at the Googleplex event, he could…”

“Excuse me?” he gasped, “Seven got invited to the Googleplex event?”

“No,” I’m not sure if I should just chalk that up to ignorance or take it as a biting insult, “I got invited to the Googleplex event and Seven went with me. He talked me into it. I wasn’t going to go. But everything was cool then. Last night, though…He just got weird. And not regular Seven weird.”

“Do you want my advice or do you just want to vent?”

“Advice, please.” Maybe Zen could provide an inside/outside perspective. Not as good as Saeran could, but Zen could be the next best thing.

“Like I said before,” he pointed out, “Seven is a special case. He’s a walking enigma. He’s the kind of guy that you need to approach with caution. If you take things slow and gentle with him, I’m sure he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“I try,” I sighed out, “But every step forward I take, he takes two back. I don’t want him eating out of the palm of my hand. I want him to be comfortable around me.”

“He’s delicate,” Zen shrugged, “Like an atomic bomb. But you’ll be alright.”

“Look at me,” I shook it off, “I’m supposed to be working, yet I’m blubbering to you.”

“It’s alright,” he allowed, “I’m not going to fault you. You needed a friend and I was more than happy to give you one. You can just start tomorrow. That way, you’ll get a good night’s sleep to sort out whatever’s going on in your head and you’ll be able to approach this with a clear conscience.”

“Ok.” I’m so glad Zen’s being so cool about this. 

“Hey, MC,” Zen put an arm around me, “Don’t worry about Seven. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Thank you, Zen,” I hugged him tight, “Really. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he let me go, “Are you hungry? You want to grab something to eat before you go home? You really shouldn’t skip meals.”

“I’m just going to go home,” I shot him down, “I got leftover Chinese food in my fridge. I should be ok.”

“Alright.” I think I may have bruised Zen’s ego a little bit, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Bye.” I waved behind me and started heading home. In all honesty, I had no Chinese food in my fridge. I just didn’t want to go out tonight. As appreciative as I was to Zen, he’s still coming on a little too strong for my taste. That’s fine, though. Because once I get home, I can just crash and everything will be ok. Seven will come around, huh? God, I hope so.


	14. Baby's Day Off

When I woke up the next morning, the world was quiet. Too quiet. I mean, we had the standard chirp of the birds outside, the gurgle of my coffee pot in the kitchen, the cracks of my joints, but that was it. I put my ear up to my bedroom wall. Nothing but an empty silence on the other side. My heart hurts. I miss him. It was one slightly awkward date, Seven. It’d be nice if you’d at least answer my texts. I threw myself back on my bed, lost in my wishful thinking.

But then, realization hit. I still had work to do today. Finishing Zen’s apartment was priority one. I could do that much. However, I would need help. When I called yesterday, my favorite assistant said he was busy. Fingers crossed he says yes this time around. He won’t say no two days in a row, right?

“This better be life or death,” a sleepy voice growled on the other end.

“Good morning, Saeran,” I braced myself for whatever hell may follow. 

“Oh,” Saeran shook it off, sounding less pissed than he was before, “Morning, MC. Sorry about that. I thought you might have been my brother. What do you want?”

“I have a commission to finish today,” I bit the inside of my cheek, silently praying for a yes, “And I was wondering if you could come work for me today.”

“You mean with you?” he corrected me, “I don’t work for you, MC.”

“Of course,” I let him have it. Whatever gets that yes for me.

“Sorry,” Saeran shot me down. Dammit, “I can’t. I got other shit going on today. I can’t just be your errand runner at the drop of a hat, you know.”

“I know,” I pouted a little, “I understand. You have a life, too.”

“I don’t even have anyone I could send for you, MC,” he apologized, “I wish I did, but like I said…”

“Other shit to do today,” I let it go, “Sure. It’s fine, Saeran. I can probably handle it myself.”

“Alright then,” Saeran sent me off, “Thanks for being so understanding.”

“No problem,” I sighed out, “Send your brother my love. And my concern.”

“I will.”

Click.

Dammit. I really thought Saeran was going to be free today. That’s fine. I can handle the rest of Zen’s apartment. It’s not like I had very much left to do. The bedroom. The bathroom. Maybe the kitchen, if I’m feeling particularly spicy today and have the time. But here nor there. I got out of bed and jumped in the shower. It’s damn near nine o'clock and I should probably get to Zen’s around ten. It sucks that I won’t be able to have Saeran’s help (because…Well…Whether he wants to admit it or not, Saeran has quite an eye for things, too. Possibly just as good as my own. It’d be amazing to see what he could do if he was properly trained.), but I’ll manage. I hope.

I filled a travel cup with black coffee in need of all the help I could get today and hightailed it to Zen’s. Granted, I felt like shit, but that’s what I had the coffee for. As much as I wanted to throw in a little creamer, that would dilute it too much. I’ll settle for espresso later this afternoon when my ass starts to really drag. Now, to get to work.

Knock, knock.

Please be home, Zen. And awake. I don’t need a repeat of what happened with Saeran.

“Morning, MC,” Zen invited me in, catching me stumble over my own two feet. I don’t make it a habit to swoon over my clients, but…Was Zen always this muscly…? Because, damn…This boy’s solid, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” I brushed him off, trying my hardest not to swoon, “I’m fine. I’m sorry. Clumsy, I guess.”

“No, no, no,” he saw right through me, “Talk to me, MC. Are you ok?”

“I didn’t sleep very well last night,” I took a heavy drink from my coffee, indulging myself in the hug my insides needed, “But I’ll be ok.”

“That’s no good for your skin, little lady,” Zen scolded me. I’m not quite sure how I felt about the little lady comment, but if we’re being honest…I think I kind of liked it, “You can’t run on fumes, MC.”

“Really?” I scoffed, “Watch me. I’ve done it a million times before and I can do it again.”

“No,” he put his foot down, “I’m not going to let you pour from an empty cup here. Do you have anything else going on today other than working on my apartment?”

“Not that I can think of,” I ran through my day’s itinerary in my head. Other than the blog post I have intentions of doing after I finish here, I had nothing, “Why?”

“Maybe,” Zen offered, “You don’t have to work on my apartment _today_.”

“What do you mean?” I looked at him strange, “It’s what you’re paying me for, Zen. Yeah, I do.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head, “Take today off.”

“I can’t do…”

“Yes, you can,” Zen cut me off, “You wouldn’t want to go hang out with me today, would you?”

“Um…” If I said he didn’t catch me off guard, I’d say I was lying, “I’d love to, Zen. Any other day, I’m down. But I really should be working.”

“Come on, MC,” he begged, taking my hand, “When was the last time someone took care of you? The last time someone treated you like the absolute princess you are?”

“I don’t know,” I thought it over, “Seven took me to the Rose Garden the other night.”

“Without having a breakdown in the middle of it.”

“It’s been a while,” I admitted, chewing on my bottom lip.

“Come on,” Zen insisted, almost taking my permission out of it altogether, “Just you and me.”

He really was going to fight me tooth and nail on this, wasn’t he? “Don’t you have anything else to do today?”

“Nope,” Zen beamed, “I got a day off. And so do you, young lady. Why not spend it together?”

I was still pretty tired, but I thought the coffee was supposed to take care of that. It wasn’t. Unfortunately. Even though I had all intentions of pushing through today, Zen had a point. I can’t pour from an empty cup, “Alright, Zen. You got me. Where to first?”

“Yay!” he took my hand, “I know where I want to go, but it’s a surprise for you. Besides, I’m sure my director thanks me for it anyway. Come on!”

I’m not sure who was more enthusiastic about my day off: Me or Zen. I’ll take it, though. If my client wants to give me a day off, who am I to say no? Ever since yoga, Zen and I had a strange relationship. I don’t know if I could call it a friendship or an acquaintanceship or something in between. We didn’t know each other well enough to classify us as friends, but I’ve also vented my problems to him. In all terms, that’s more like calling him my therapist. I’m sure if I asked him, he’d call it a friendship. And that’s good enough for me. Zen was cool enough to let me ride on the back of his motorcycle, so…Isn’t that called riding bitch, though? I’m not his bitch. A friendly bitch. That’s something I could get on board with.

Zen pulled into the parking lot of a big, white building that I don’t think I’ve ever noticed before. I’ve certainly never been here before. That’s for sure. Nevertheless, I got off Zen’s bike with my legs feeling like jelly. I stumbled a few steps before I could regain my equilibrium again. 

Much like in his doorway this morning, Zen caught me before I could hit the ground, “You ok, MC?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, secretly reveling in his embrace, “I’m good. Thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he giggled a little, “Have you never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?”

“No,” I shook my head, “Can’t say that I have. How do you do it?”

“Just used to it, I guess,” Zen shrugged, “Do you have any idea of where we could be?”

“It looks like a temple,” I pointed out, “I appreciate your concerns for my everlasting soul, but I don’t think today’s going to be the day I find religion.”

“Trust me,” he assured, “This isn’t a temple. It is a way of taking care of a different temple, though.”

Zen steadied me and brought me inside, sitting me in some kind of waiting room. Did this place not know what color was? Although, I could understand. Sometimes, stark white everywhere worked. It’s like looking at a blank canvas. I looked over at a bronze sign hanging on the wall framed out by a couple of ferns. Wellness clinic. Oh, shit…Was this what I think it was? Because if Zen’s taking me to rehab, he and I need to have a few words. I don’t have a drug problem. I don’t have a drinking problem. I don’t have any sort of disorder. I’m perfectly fine. 

“Alright, MC,” Zen took my hand and pulled me up to my feet again, “We’re signed in. You ready?”

“Before we go any further,” I asked with a knot in my stomach, “Is this a rehab? Because I’m pretty sure that if I even had a problem, it’s supposed to start with an intervention. THEN, rehab. After everyone reads all their sad letters.”

“No,” he wrapped his arms around me, “No, no, no, MC. I’m not leaving you in a rehab. Everything’s fine. This is a wellness clinic. More of a day spa than a rehab. You’re free to come and go as you please. Besides, you said you didn’t sleep well last night. This will help tremendously. I promise. This has been my day off tradition for as long as I’ve been in my line of work. And you want to know what the best part about it is?”

“What’s that, Zen?” I wondered.

With a big ass grin on his face, Zen whipped out a black card from his wallet, “It’s on the company dime. They’re not going to notice if I have a plus one. Or care, really. Just trust me. They know what they’re doing. You just have to be there.”

“A little late to say no, don’t you think?” I smiled a little.

“That’s the spirit!” he gave me a little pop in the shoulder, “Come on. Over here.”

This shouldn’t be happening. Right now, I should be neck deep in Zen’s apartment, getting shit done. But what am I doing? Half zoned out in a massage chair while a facial sets. This is naughty. You should be working, MC. You should be covered in a layer of sweat and paint by now with at least three bandages on your fingers. Although…Zen did have a point. The occasional break isn’t going to kill me. And if they’re all like this, I might need to take more breaks. And frequently. If I wasn’t already braindead this morning, this wasn’t helping. Or maybe it was in ways I couldn’t see. Yeah, this was naughty. But damn, did this feel good. It’s too bad Zen and I were separated, though. Oh, well. Right now, I was in no position to complain.

After a brief nap and a pedicure, I could understand why Zen made this a day off priority. If I had the means of doing this every week, I totally would. No. This is the one day of treating myself (or letting Zen take care of it). Then, I go back to work and hit it full force. I am going to need caffeine, though, or I’m going to end up falling asleep again. The nap helped, though. And the facial. And the pedicure. And the massage that sent tingles all the way to my toes.

“Well?” Zen and I reconnected in the lobby, “How do you feel?”

“Incredible,” I let out a heavy sigh, “Hell of an idea you had, Zen. Hell of an idea.”

“See?” he threw an arm around my shoulders, “Aren’t you glad I talked you into this?”

“I’m glad you weren’t sending me to rehab,” I giggled, “But yes. I’m glad you talked me into this. If you didn’t, I probably would’ve fizzled out by now and I’d be napping on your bathroom floor.”

“All that aside,” Zen swung his leg over his bike seat, “Where to now, princess?”

“So, I’m princess now?” I wondered.

“For today, you are,” he nodded, “Where would you like to go? Anywhere you want. Nothing’s off the table. Except for one place, but I doubt you’d say there anyway.”

“Honestly,” I thought it over, “I’d love to go pick through the C&R dumpster, but…”

“Absolutely not,” Zen shot me down, “I don’t want to get within a hundred feet of C&R. I don’t have any allergy meds on me and there’s too high of a chance of running into…Anyway. No. No C&R dumpster.”

“Ok,” I backed off. Why did I have that feeling Zen knew the man in the ivory tower? Today’s not the day to delve into that, “Actually, I’m kind of hungry. I didn’t get the chance for breakfast this morning. I had my coffee and left.”

“That’s not good for you either, MC,” he scolded me, “Fine. Lunch then?”

“Yes, please.” To say I was starving would be exaggerating. But it’s also not too terribly far off from the truth. I didn’t eat much when I came home last night and I had yet to eat anything today. Something tells me if I were to have told Zen that, he’d yell at me like my dad again. Twice today! He’s done that twice! But I understand. He’s just looking out for me.

I don’t know why, but for some ungodly reason, Zen took me to a vegan restaurant. I wasn’t vegan by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve eaten here before. Because sometimes, letting the vegan friend pick the restaurant pays off. She was the same friend that took me to yoga for the first time. It’s weird. We came here after that yoga class and she thought she’d convert me. Turns out yoga wasn’t her thing and veganism wasn’t mine. We completed each other. 

All in all, though, despite having my sad moment this morning and Saeran bailing on me, today has only gotten better. All because Zen asked me to come out and play. And to take a day off. I got halfway through my French fries (that were weirdly baked instead of deep fried. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I know everything on the menu here was supposed to be relatively healthy, but dammit, sometimes a bitch wants something soaked in grease that’s going to make her heart stop) and couldn’t keep the smile off my face. Of course, that couldn’t go unnoticed.

“You doing alright, MC?” Zen wondered, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in higher spirits.”

“I’m fine,” I assured, taking a good, heavy sip from my green tea, “Hey, Zen?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” I spoke softly, “For today. I didn’t know how badly I needed it.”

“You’re welcome,” Zen smiled back, taking my hand, “It was my pleasure. Do you think you’d ever maybe want to do it again?”

“Maybe one day,” I admitted, “But not for a while yet. I’ve got too much shit to do back at your place.”

“Well then,” he decided, “We should finish up here and go back to my place, yeah?”

“Definitely,” I grabbed my tea and the two of us headed back to Zen’s apartment. Even though it had gotten late in the afternoon, I could manage to get _something _done, so I could sleep tonight. Hopefully better than last night. The sidebar of the day was nice, but I still had a job to do. 

When we got back, I walked straight into the easiest room I could do for today. Zen’s bedroom was strangely simple for someone like Zen. A bed. A dresser. A full length mirror. A closet. Nothing too terribly exciting. I would’ve thought he’d have some skeletons in this particular closet, but I’m pleasantly disappointed. I’ve gone into projects where I walk into the bedroom and there’s a sex swing hanging from the ceiling. Weirdest project I’ve ever done.

I shook off that disturbing memory and got back to work. The last time I did a bedroom was…My own! Because when I did Seven’s office, I didn’t get to touch the bedroom. It had been mostly file storage and I wasn’t allowed to go through them. That was for Vanderwood to take care of. I liked doing my bedroom. Out of the little projects in my apartment, my office and my bedroom were my favorite. Especially when it came to the pictures. Speaking of weird experiences. I looked down at Zen’s bed, having a flashback that simultaneously melted and broke my heart.

“MC?” Zen gave me a little nudge, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” I shook it off, forcing a smile on my face “When I was doing my bedroom, Seven thought it’d be funny to steal some of my pajamas and pose on my bed like the sultry vixen he was trying to be.”

“I told you that guy was nuts!” he gasped, “MC, you shouldn’t have had to deal with that!”

“I thought it was cute,” I giggled to myself, only to be overcome with a wave of melancholy, “I miss him.”

“You haven’t heard from him?”

“Not since the other morning,” I told him, “Usually, he’ll either stop by or send me a text or at least let me know he’s alive in some way. Hell, I’ve talked to Saeran more in the last few days than I have Seven.”

“And Saeran doesn’t talk to anybody,” Zen teased, “Give him a minute, MC. He’ll come back around. Eventually. Seven just needs to go back to the mothership and recharge.”

“You really have been a help, Zen,” I sat at the edge of his bed, checking for anything else I can do. The bedding’s changed from something that looked like it belonged in a hotel (or a furnace, if I had my way) to something that suited this room a hell of a lot better. The pillows are overabundant and artfully shoved in the corner of the bed. The dresser had a few added knickknacks from the living room on it (that weren’t just Zen’s mail stacked up). I think I could call this done.

“So have you,” he sat next to me, “Thank you, MC. I’m glad you did this for me.”

“Anytime,” I pulled myself together, “As far as payment is concerned…”

“How much do you want from me?” Zen got up and grabbed his wallet out of his jacket pocket, cringing at the tumbleweeds coming out of it, “And when…? Because I don’t think I can get you anything quite yet.”

“Just kick me some money when you can,” I allowed, “That’s no problem.”

“Bless you,” he hugged me tight, “You truly are a princess, MC. And I mean that in the most loving way possible. Are you sure we can do today again?”

“I’m hoping so,” I insisted, “Anytime you want. Within reason.”

“Does that mean I can call you, too?”

“Of course,” I nodded, “You do have my number.”

“That I do!”

“It’s getting late,” I pointed out, “I’m going to head home.”

“Alright,” Zen walked me to the door, “Good night, MC.”

“Night,” I waved behind me and drove back to my building. Home sweet home. A place where I can kick my shoes off, hang my nonexistent hat, and pull my bra off through my shirt sleeve. Now, I could upload all the pictures I took from Zen’s apartment and get to work on that blog post.

No, MC. You’re done for the night. You’re going to put your feet up on the coffee table and possibly watch some shitty mindless TV. Although, I wasn’t in the mood for shitty mindless TV. I picked my phone up from the coffee table and scrolled through my contacts, giving serious consideration to calling Seven. Who knows if he’d even pick up? We were practically foreign concepts to each other the other morning. I didn’t think he’d be so weirded out by that. All I did was show him basic human kindness and it made him want to crawl back into his hole. What am I going to do with you, Seven? Right now, I just want to know you’re ok.

_There’s not a soul out there…_

_No one to hear my prayer…_

What the hell…? I checked my phone and my laptop and not a single one of them were making a peep. Then again, I don’t remember downloading any ABBA recently. 

_Gimme, gimme, gimme_

_A man after midnight._

_Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away…_

Looks like someone’s in the office. It’s weird how what once infuriated me to no end is the one thing that could set my mind at ease. Didn’t expect it to be ABBA, but I don’t care. I’ll take it. Who knows? I might actually get some damn sleep tonight. All because of the music on the other side of the wall. If there’s ABBA bumping next door, then chances are, Seven’s home, right? And if he can do it, I can do it. I pushed myself off my couch and walked next door. 

Knock, knock.

I’ll just be happy if this door opens. Sure enough, a little squeak came from the hinges. You know, Seven, if you have the place remodeled, the least your designer could do is WD-40 your door. Or we’ll just save that for the building manager. That’ll work, too. Going by the look on your face, though, I just caught a deer in my headlights, “MC…Hi. Music too loud?”

“No,” I let it slide. For now, “Hi, Seven.”

“What brings you over at this ungodly hour?” he wondered.

I needed an excuse. And I needed one now. I could bitch about the music being too loud, but I missed it too much. Then, brilliance struck, “I wanted to tell you I finished a job.”

“That’s good,” Seven leaned against the doorframe, “That feels like something you could’ve said in a text, but it’s nice to see your face once in a while, too.”

“Ditto,” I agreed, “But I don’t think you understand. I finished a job today.”

“Yes,” he nodded, still not quite following me, “And we’re all very proud of you, MC. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do have work to do.”

“Wait, Seven,” I put my foot in his door. My bare foot. That might have not been a good idea on MC’s part, but that’s for her to deal with later. I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel pain. Quickly, I pulled myself together, “I finished a job. Let’s go get pancakes.”

A little smile crept across his face. Going by all the other emotions this boy has shown since I showed up on his door, I didn’t expect that. It’s a delightful change of pace, “You want to go get pancakes? MC, it’s one in the morning.”

“I know.”

Seven got quiet. I don’t like when Seven gets quiet. Because that means Seven’s about to bolt for the bathroom again to call Saeran to talk him down from the ledge. But that smile stayed on his face, “What kind of lunatic would bang on someone’s door at one o'clock in the morning for pancakes?”

“My favorite lunatic,” I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back a smile of my own, “The kind that blasts ABBA when I’m trying to sleep and accidentally takes me to porn theaters downtown.”

“Let me grab my shoes.”


	15. Pancakes, Planets, and a Trip to the Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...I cannot convey in words how excited I am for this chapter. Because gotdayum. Since It's Valentine's Day at the end of the week, I guess we can count this as the special, can't we? And I do believe MC promised Seven pancakes this week. Also, because it went over so well last time (shoutouts to WatercolorSunrise, who we can thank for the surprise one-shot last week, and to bbabyfface, whose one-shot WILL be coming out this week. Pinky promise.), we're going to do another rousing game of finding Lumi's favorite line in this week's chapter. Why? Because why not? And because if I just let you loose here, it'd be like finding a needle in a haystack, much like last time, I will tell you who says it. One would think it'd be Seven. However, MC has my favorite line this week. If you find it, you win a one-shot and a virtual hug redeemable if we're to ever meet in person. Now, because I'm 20 minutes over my update schedule, I'm going to shut up and let you guys get into today's chapter. Sound like a plan? I think so, too.

I’m glad we did this. Seven could randomly knock on my door at any given time of the day just for the sake of going out for pancakes. Why not me? I’m just glad he said yes. Besides, I just finished a job. Pancakes are customary. And once Seven had his jacket, the two of us headed down the block to the cute little diner with the best pancakes in town. It was just the right time of night, too. Where PM is going to turn into AM very soon. 

“So, MC,” Seven listened intently, “It’s been a few days since I saw you last. What job did you finish?”

“Zen’s apartment,” I told him, “It’s one of my favorite projects to date.”

“More than my office?”

“Not a chance,” I shook my head, “Your office was too much fun. But I also did your office with Saeran, too, so that added to it.”

“He’s been mostly helping me for the last couple days,” Seven admitted, “He’s nice to have around.”

“You took my assistant from me,” I stuck my tongue out at him with the utmost maturity, “Jerk.”

“He was my assistant first,” he argued, “I got dibs on Saeran.”

“You share blood with Saeran,” I pointed out, “That’s not fair. You can’t use that against me.”

“I share more than just blood with the guy,” Seven teased, “I share blood, a birthday, and a face with him.”

“Not entirely,” I took a heavy sip from my lemonade, “There are differences between you and Saeran. Although they are subtle, that doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“I always thought we looked alike,” he shrugged, “I’m sure if you tell Saeran that, he’d be over the moon.”

“But you’re both adorable,” I smiled, “And that’s all that matters.”

“I knew that…” Thank God, you’re still in there, Seven. You’re still…Well…You’re still you. It’s nice to see that in you again. For a minute, I thought I’d never see it again. That’s what happens when you DON’T ANSWER YOUR TEXTS. But like Saeran said, he’s also a skittish creature that frightens easily, “You didn’t happen to take pictures of Zen’s place, did you?”

“Please,” I rolled my eyes, taking my phone out, “Of course I did. I have all intentions on making this a blog post. Mostly because my last commission told me I couldn’t do that.”

“Not with my office,” Seven shot me down, “I’m sorry, MC. But you know how I am by now.”

“Yes,” I giggled, “Ever the international man of mystery. You must remain an enigma.”

“See?” he gave me a little nudge under the table, “You do get it! Now, are you going to keep me in suspense or are you going to show me Zen’s apartment?”

“I have to get to the pictures first,” I scrolled through my camera roll, looking for the pictures from Zen’s apartment. Then, I found a block of grayscale. There they are. I slid my phone across the table, “Here.”

“Wow, MC,” Seven idly scrolled through my pictures, “It kind of looks like what you did with my office, but with a slightly different color pallete. YOUNG LADY, WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN HIS BEDROOM?!”

“Seven!” I snapped, “We’re in public!”

“And you were in Zen’s bedroom,” he lowered his voice, but not by much, “What were you doing in there? As your father, I can’t say I approve.”

“You’re not my dad, Seven.”

“I can’t believe you,” Seven threw his head back, “I’m not mad, but I’m so disappointed. A boy you’re not even seeing and you’re already in his bedroom. Honestly, MC. I thought I raised you better.”

“You didn’t raise me, Seven,” I reminded him, “And I was working…”

“In his bedroom?!”

“Not that kind of working,” I let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, “You’re exhausting.”

“And you have quite a talent,” Seven continued scrolling through my pictures, “Seriously, MC, do you have a card I can give people?”

“You give me whiplash,” I held my face in my hands, letting Seven’s potent brand of manic craziness roll off my back, “But I don’t have a card. I could give you my URL, though. There’s a link on my blog for people who want to commission me.”

“Different question,” he asked, “And totally without a doubt unrelated, but how do you feel about space?”

I should know better than to let my guard down with Seven. God only knows what’s going to come out of that boy’s mouth. But it’s part of his charm, “I don’t know. Depends on what the context is.”

“Space,” Seven reiterated, “Planets, stars, satellites, potential for alien life?”

“That kind of space,” I nodded, “I think it’s a vast beauty that one day could consume us all, ending life as we know it. Why?”

“Because…” he hid a little smile, “One day, I’d love to take you up to the space station. Not quite yet, but one day. I think I’d be ok with that.”

“I loved space when I was a kid,” I thought back, kicking my feet up in the booth, “It was always so pretty to me. If I wasn’t doing design, I would’ve easily gone to school for astrophysics. But when I found out there was too much math and science, I went back and thought of what else I loved about space. I spent hours and hours looking at pictures of the Earth and pictures from the Mars Rover and all of the planets and the nebulas and supernovas and fell head over heels in love with the visuals. Ultimately, I think that’s what led me down the design rabbit hole. I wanted to add to the beauty that already existed in the universe.”

“Really?” Seven sat back and just listened while I rattled on. He did say he liked the sound of my voice, “I mean, I can’t argue with you. Space is an incredible thing. But really? The math and science behind space is what tripped you up?”

“I don’t have the brain for it,” I clarified, “I can handle basic math and basic science, but to full on dive headfirst into it, I couldn’t do it. Maybe one day, I’ll think about going to college and studying it, but for now, I like what I got. My blog keeps me comfortable. Getting commissions is always fun. I can’t complain about where I’m at. Everything’s pretty ok.”

“I like what you got, too,” he laced his fingers between mine, “You know what I’d be doing if I wasn’t where I was now?”

“That’s hard to say for you,” I giggled a bit, “But what?”

“I’d be a professional dancer,” Seven confessed, “But where you don’t have the brain for math and science, I don’t have the feet or the coordination to be a dancer. Or the stamina.”

“Not with that attitude, you don’t,” I jabbed, “I bet if you tried at it, you’d manage.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “And how many injuries would I be the cause of in the process?”

“None,” I assured. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into my head, “You know, Seven, there is one thing I’ve never told you about myself.”

“Is this when you tell me you’ve killed a man?” Seven gasped, “MC! Again, as your father, I’m disappointed. Not mad, but definitely disappointed.”

“I never…!”

“And for the sole purpose of taking his shoes,” he shook his head, “I knew your mother shouldn’t have smoked while she was pregnant. I always told her those were going to only lead to trouble. Did she listen to me? Of course not. But she did manage to take my shoes from me. Does that make me dead? MC, tell me I’m still alive.”

“You are alive, you moron,” I groaned into the tabletop, “I didn’t kill anyone, Seven. And I sure as hell didn’t take anyone’s shoes. And you’re still not my dad!”

“What was the thing you wanted to tell me?” Seven asked, “What is the thing about you that isn’t a Google search away?”

“I was forced into dance lessons when I was younger,” I told him, “And most of it has stuck. That’s where I got my love for pastels.”

“You were a dancer?” his eyes damn near popped out of his head, “Really? You don’t strike me as the type.”

“Neither do you.”

“Fair point.”

“Come on,” I got up from the table, pulling Seven along with me, “I know somewhere we can go.”

“If it’s the movie theater downtown,” Seven stipulated, “I’m already out.”

“We’re not going to the movie theater downtown,” I promised, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, full service.”

“Just like Susan…” he shuddered, “Where are we going?”

“Not to the porn theater,” I swore, “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone, MC,” Seven bit his lip, “Saeran lives with me and I don’t even completely trust him.”

“Trust me,” I stuck out my pinky, “We’re not going to the porn theater downtown. And we’re not going anywhere dangerous or anywhere that would make either one of us uncomfortable.”

“And you’re not taking me somewhere you can have your way with me?” Seven hoped.

“What the hell?” I squeaked, “No! Consent before anything else. I’m not having my way with you anywhere. Not right now. Not tonight.”

“So, not totally off the table,” he nodded, “Got it.”

“You’re awful.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Come on,” I dragged him outside and the two of us left with our bellies full of pancakes. I’m not complaining. There were few things in life I loved more than getting pancakes with Seven. I can see why he does it. There’s something weirdly satisfying about it. Who would’ve thought pancakes would be the universal sign of a job well done? 

Seven and I walked back to our building, of all places. What made me love this building in the first place was a party I had gone to back when I was still working for the thinktank. My boss at the time wanted to take me as his date. Since I didn’t have anything going on that night and saw it as a networking opportunity, if nothing else, I went. And it happened to be on the roof of this building. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sure, there were people who got drunk and stupid, but the views of the city were breathtaking. The twinkling lights meshed with the stars in the sky. If there hadn’t been any loud, bassy music playing, it would’ve been so peaceful. Let’s go see what that’s really like.

“The roof?” Seven looked at me weird with a slight hesitation, “MC, you’re drunk on maple syrup. I don’t think we should be up here.”

“It’s ok,” I stuck my hand out to him standing in the doorway, “Just trust me.”

“How do I know you’re not going to push me off the edge?” he argued.

I had no intentions of pushing Seven off the roof. He was too much of a permanent fixture in my life for me to get rid of him. But how in the hell was I going to get him to come out and play? Looks like I’ll have to work him just right, “Look at your feet.”

“Ok?” Seven looked down at his feet, “What about them? Are you trying to get me to have a self-induced foot fetish? Because I don’t think it works that way.”

“No,” I rolled my eyes, “Are your shoes still on your feet?”

“Yeah.”

“How am I going to kill you then?” I pointed out, “If I can’t take your shoes, I can’t kill you.”

Seven knew exactly what I was trying to say to him. He can trust me. I’m not pushing him off the roof any time soon. And he took my hand with a smile on his face, “Alright. You make a fair point. If you haven’t brought me up here to kill me and you already said you weren’t having your way with me up here, why are we on the roof?”

“Because,” I insisted, pulling him a little closer, “Tonight, you get to live the dream.”

“I get to swim in a pool of chocolate pudding?!” Seven lit up, “Oh, MC, you shouldn’t have…But I don’t know how you’d know about my chocolate pudding dreams.”

“No, Seven,” I shook my head, “Tonight, we dance.”

“Excuse me?” he froze, “No, no, no. We’re not…”

“Why not?” I wondered, “I see no better time, nor a better place.”

“MC,” Seven sighed out, “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Seven took a minute to gather his thoughts. Even though I could see it all over his face that he was done with me already, I batted my eyelashes, “Please?”

“Fine,” he caved, taking my hand, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It’s alright,” I pulled him closer, “You’re lucky I’m good at what I do. And that I have the patience of a saint.”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Seven admitted, slowly moving with me, “Isn’t there supposed to be music while two people are dancing?”

“If you’d shut up long enough to listen,” I pointed out, “There’s already music.”

After a few seconds of quiet, he accidentally stepped on my foot, “Sorry!”

“It’s ok,” I settled him, playing through the pain, “Just move with me.”

“I still don’t hear anything, MC…”

“Listen,” I explained, keeping my voice down, “It’s all around us. The cars on the street are the back beat. The traffic takes the rhythm. The car horns are the melody. The conversation, the harmony. And it all intertwines below us. The city plays us a symphony, but people are usually too wrapped up in their own heads to just…Listen.”

Seven subtly took the lead as the two of us continued moving around the rooftop. The two of us got more and more on beat and more in sync. He finally got comfortable for the first time all night. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as the two of us got closer. And it only added to the rhythm of the streets below. However, the closer we moved in together, the faster it went. But then, he raised my chin a little, cupping my cheek in the palm of his hand. If I didn’t know any better…I’d think…Was he about to do what I think he was about to do?

Ring, ring!

DAMMIT!

“I’m sorry,” Seven took his phone out of his pocket, “It’s Saeran. I have to go.”

“Go ahead,” I allowed, seething internally, “I understand.”

“Thank you,” he smiled a little, “But do you think we could do this again sometime?”

“Absolutely.” After that, I couldn’t say no to him, “Go. Go take care of your brother.”

“I’ll see you later, MC,” Seven walked back inside and I wouldn’t be too far behind him. Saeran was right. If I’m not careful, I might crack him. But he needs to be broken. Rather, he needs a cycle broken. He needs to know it’s ok to open himself up to people. Crack him, but don’t break him. That wasn’t exactly the plan when I pounded on his door that night. When I was thinking about cracking him, it was a much more physical thing. Now…Now, I wanted to crack his brother in a much more physical way. Dammit, Saeran. You have the shittiest timing.

When I got back into my apartment, I threw myself onto my couch, way too wide awake for this time of night. But I knew one thing that needed to be done. I needed to tear Saeran a new ass for blocking me tonight. However, much like his brother, Saeran was also a very special boy. I’m sure he needed something from Seven. Or he was just concerned about when his brother would be coming home. So, tear Saeran a new ass, but gently tear him a new ass.

**MC:**

_You blocked me, you jerk._

**Saeran:**

_Sorry. :P_

I should’ve known. Oh, well. Seven agreed to another night, so I can count that as a win. But I was still too jacked to go to bed. I guess I could do my storyboarding. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I had a blog post to do. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to work without any interruptions and be able to get enough done to the point where I get more pancakes! A girl can hope, right? But what would that girl be more excited about; the pancakes or the boy sitting across from her?


	16. I'm Your Biggest Fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies. How are we doing? All well I hope. Whether we got our inside pants on or we're hiding our phones under our desks, hoping we don't get caught, it's nice to see you and your beautiful faces. We're not having a contest this week, mostly because I'm behind as it is. But I'm going to shut up now and let you get to it, k? Kisses! xx

The next morning, I rolled over and checked my phone for any messages. Instead, I got the realization that it was nearly noon and I had a blog post scheduled to go out today. Shit. I shouldn’t have slept in. Then again, I did go out for pancakes at midnight with Seven. After being so hopped up on maple syrup, I couldn’t sleep. Sure. That’s what kept you up, MC. Blame it all on the maple syrup and the sugar. Your ass is lying.

Of course I was. I know exactly what kept me up last night. Seven was seeing how far he could push himself without freaking out. Why else would he have agreed to getting pancakes with me? Or the rooftop? Or…Or almost kiss me? I still held a grudge against Saeran for screwing that up. But I’m sure he had a good reason for calling Seven last night. He didn’t strike me as the type who would call his brother on a whim. Still, thoughts of what might have been clouded my mind.

I needed to shake that shit off. This blog post needed to go up today. Fortunately, Zen let me take all of the pictures I wanted when I was done. Working on his apartment was an absolute pleasure. Especially when he threw in my day off. It was nice to see him be human. However, that wouldn’t make the final blog post. People don’t need to see that I had a moment of weakness and spent the afternoon with my client. It’d be so unprofessional.

I added my pictures and clicked the post button. There. One beautiful blog post to reflect a beautiful, minimalistic apartment as done by yours truly. I loved how it turned out and it’s easily in my top five favorite project experiences. I’m so glad you let me do it, Zen. I greatly appreciate it.

Ding, ding!

Huh…First comments already? Usually, it took a while before my comment section went off.

Ding, ding!

Ding, ding!

Ding, ding!

My god. Out of absolute nowhere, my emails were flooding in. Who in the hell was spamming me? My post just went up seconds ago! Someone had to be frantically refreshing the page. Look, I know I said I had a new blog post going up today. I’m sorry, but real life got in the way and I slept in. Am I not allowed to be human every now and then?

Once I opened my emails, I quickly realized this wasn’t fan mail like I thought it was. In fact, it was quite the opposite end of the spectrum. It’s not like I’ve never dealt with negative comments before. I’ve had people call my work either born or tacky. They were looking to get a rise out of me, so I didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reply. I’m sure these would be no different. However, I never have been so wrong. 

They weren’t even about my blog post. _Who do you think you are to be in Zen’s presence like that? _Um. Excuse me? What the hell was this shit all about? _Why do you get to be in his apartment? _Because he hired me, last time I checked. _Back off Zen! _I was never on him. Where the hell are these coming from? These weren’t just negative comments. I was getting full on hate mail. Oh, joy. Just what I needed. I mean, I knew Zen had a little bit of fame, but I didn’t think I’d have his fan club coming down on me.

Knock, knock.

Oh, love of God, what now? There’s no way they could possibly know where I live…Right? It’s not like they’re going to riot at my door. Even if they were, I’d be able to hear them. Fortunately, my hallway was quiet. I stood on my toes and checked the peephole, relieved to see a familiar face on the other side, “Hi, Seven. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but can you come back later? I’m kind of in the middle of a PR crisis.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Seven came in anyway. Because…Well…It’s Seven. He knows he’s welcome any time, “Look at you, MC…I’m so proud.”

“Wait a second,” I gave him a look, “How the hell would you know? I just got the emails from my blog. I haven’t said anything public about it. I haven’t had the time.”

“Hold on…” he stopped dead in his tracks, “Have you not seen…Oh, MC…You sweet, summer child…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I’ve been around Seven long enough to know he can go off on sporadic, nonsensical tangents, but this time, he truly had me flabbergasted. 

Seven latched himself around my waist, “It’ll be alright. Where’s your laptop?”

“On my desk,” I was still kept in the dark, “Seven, I’m not in the mood. I have to be my own publicist here.”

“You’re going to need to hire that out,” he pulled up some trashy gossip blog, “Because there’s more you don’t know about.”

“What do you…” I glanced over his shoulder, staring through my computer screen at pictures of myself from the back with Zen, “Oh, shit…”

“Oh, shit doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Seven winced, doing a quick one-eighty, “Look at that. I made a rhyme.”

“Bigger fish, Seven,” I snapped, “Zen’s _that _famous?!”

“You didn’t know?” he wondered, “I thought that was a well-known fact.”

“I don’t follow the gossip blogs,” I sat down before I could pass out.

“On the plus side,” Seven pointed out, “At least they’re cute pictures. Are these from yesterday?”

“No,” I sighed out, sliding down onto my couch, “They’re from the other day. I’m boned. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I’m downright, grabbing my ankles boned.”

“And you said you don’t have a publicist?”

“No…” I mumbled into a throw pillow.

“Now may be a good time to get one,” Seven suggested, taking a seat next to me.

“Gee,” I pouted, “Thanks, Seven. Way to point out the obvious.”

“I do what I can.” At least he’s trying to make me feel better. I couldn’t fault him for that, “Can I ask you something, MC?”

“What?”

“You and Zen,” Seven asked, “You two…Aren’t actually a thing like they’re saying…Are you?”

“No,” I assured him, “That’s a hundred percent pure speculation. He and I just hung out that afternoon.”

“Then, you should be fine,” he figured, “No worries.”

“Did you stay here last night?” I sat up, trying not to wallow anymore.

“Can’t say that I did,” Seven reported, “I went home last night. You were there when I left. You would know.”

“That’s right,” I remembered, “I’m sorry. Today’s been a roller coaster already.”

“That’s ok,” he let it go, “You’re stressed. I get it. Why do you ask?”

“Are there a shit ton of cameras outside our building?” I crossed my fingers, hoping to all things holy he said no.

“There are a few of them,” Seven winced, “Sorry, MC. Maybe you could just stay home today.”

“I can’t,” I groaned, laying my head on his shoulder, “Have you seen the state of my kitchen?”

“Not lately,” he shrugged, “How is your kitchen? I don’t get their Christmas cards anymore. How are the kids? Off to college by now, I’m sure.”

“No,” I moved a little closer, “But I think my toaster may be having an affair with my bathtub soon enough.”

“We can’t have that,” Seven stopped me, “Are you trying to tell me you need to go grocery shopping?”

“I’m almost out of coffee. And I really can’t have that.”

“In that case,” he jumped up from the couch, “I have an idea!”

“I’m all ears, Seven,” I held my face in my hands, “Because I can’t exactly go out there when they know what my face looks like.”

“Hold on!”

All of a sudden, I felt something warm on my back. It smelled like cinnamon. I’m not sure why, but I kind of loved it. When I lifted my head back up again, I could hardly see with the hood over my eyes, “What the hell…?”

“There!” Seven chirped, standing in the middle of my living room in just a t-shirt, “You look so cute, MC!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Seven,” I pushed my arms through the sleeves of his hoody, not exactly wanting to pull them back out. My god, this thing was comfortable. It’s like wearing a hug.

“Well?” he jabbed, “If you keep the hood up, they’ll just think you’re me! There! Problem solved! Score one for Seven! Bring in the dancing lobsters!”

“What about you?” I wondered, seriously considering keeping this hoody. 

“What about me?” Seven brushed me off, “You need it more than I do at this point. And now, you can go grocery shopping.”

“Thank you,” I threw my arms around him, “Today has been an absolute shit storm since I updated my blog this morning. You really did save the day here, Seven.”

“You’re welcome,” he pulled me in closer, “Tell you what. Because I’ve been your constant source of moral support, why don’t I go shopping with you?”

“Don’t you have a job to finish?” I pointed out, “I don’t remember us getting more pancakes.”

“That can wait,” Seven assured, putting an arm around me, “Besides, I’m low on snack foods for the office anyway. I could stand to get a few groceries myself.”

“Seriously, Seven,” I buried my face in his ribs, “Thank you.”

“No problem!” he sang out, “Let’s go!”

“Ok.” I had a reinvigorated lust for life. Maybe this isn’t going to stay the shitshow it is.

Ring, ring!

Before I had the chance to answer my phone, Seven got to it first, and put it on speakerphone, “Mmmyello? MC’s phone, this is her publicist speaking.”

“What the hell…?” the voice on the other end wasn’t expecting my new publicist by the sounds of it, “Seven? What are you doing answering MC’s phone?”

“Zen!” Seven beamed, “It’s so nice to hear from you!”

“Let me talk to MC,” Zen demanded.

“I’m here, Zen,” I assured, holding back a giggle. Seven was a dork and I adored him for it, “What’s up?”

“I’m just checking in,” he winced, “Have you opened up the internet today?”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed out, “I saw.”

“I’m so sorry,” Zen gushed, “I didn’t realize they were going to drag you like that. That wasn’t my intentions at all. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” I nodded, “Thank you, Zen. I’m ok. I was just about to go out.”

“Stay there,” he insisted, “I’ll go with you.”

“So they can speculate more shit about us?” I stopped him, “Thank you, but I’m good.”

“She’s got me!” Seven chimed, “We were just about to go grocery shopping.”

“Seriously?” Zen wondered, “I mean, you make a good point, MC, but really? You’re getting Seven out of the house?”

“Zen!” Seven whined, “Hurtful!”

“Zen,” I asked, “Please. Apologize. I’m the one that has to deal with him today and I’ve already had a day.”

“I’m. Sorry. Seven.”

“Thank you,” I sighed out, “But really, Zen. I’ll be alright. Seven can keep an eye on things just as well as anyone else.”

“Be careful, MC,” he begged, “Please.”  
  


“I will,” I promised, “I have to go, Zen.”

“Until later then.”

Click.

“I think he likes you,” Seven teased, “Maybe the tabloids are right.”

“No,” I shook my head, “We’re just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Sure,” he hummed, “Do you guys already have names for the dogs you’re going to adopt together?”

“I’m not interested in Zen, Seven!” I giggled, shaking my head at this moron, “That’s not going to happen. Come on. Let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

And just like that, Seven and I snuck out of our apartment building like the two of us were on a covert operation. Honestly, we were just going to get groceries. Yet, three camera crews were sitting outside, posting for the mysterious girl they saw hanging around Zen. Little did they know, she was me. Fortunately, Seven’s hood covered most of my face, so they didn’t even look twice.

“This sucks,” I groaned, “I just wanted to spend some time with a friend and now, my apartment building is under surveillance.”

“I’m sorry, MC,” Seven took my hand, “Hey…How about instead of us actually getting groceries, we score a bunch of junk food and binge horrible movies?”

“Actually,” I admitted, in serious need of an escape, “That sounds like a hell of a plan. I could do that.”

“Awesome!” he skipped ahead, “And just like that, 707 comes in to save the day, yet again!”

Yes, he does. More than he realizes. We managed to get past the camera crews and headed straight for the grocery store. I was in that kind of a mood where eating my feelings seemed almost appropriate. Not that I ever really cared about my weight anyway. I was an aesthetic design blogger, not a beauty blogger. If I gained weight, I gained weight. If I lost weight, I lost weight. At the end of the day, I knew I was ok just the way I was. And I was ready to hit that snack aisle like a ton of bricks. 

Seven and I made the mistake of getting a cart instead of a basket like two respectable adults who know what moderation is would do. And dammit, if that cart wasn’t heaped over by the time we checked out, we did something wrong. Any kind of snack imaginable on the spectrum of sweet and salty ended up in our cart. Was it the healthiest thing to do? Oh, hell no. That’s why we were doing it. Before we could walk out, though, we needed to make a trip down the freezer aisle. That’s where the pizza rolls lived.

Crash!

Dammit. Just what I need. It’s not bad enough I got Zen’s fan club and paparazzi on my ass, but let’s throw in a cart crash, too, “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright.” I knew that voice. It left me with a slightly uneasy feeling in my stomach. Especially after the last time we saw each other, “MC?”

“Trevor…” I gasped, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he smiled, “It’s good to see you. Haven’t since the Googleplex event.”

“Yeah,” I bit my lip, “I’ve been keeping busy since then.”

“So I’ve heard,” Trevor nodded, “I heard about you and Zen.”

“That?” I laughed uncomfortably, sending up the radar on the guy with the five-pound bag of pizza rolls, “That’s not what they say it is. I’m not the mysterious new woman in his life. He’s just a friend.”

“Really?” he went on, digging deeper when I’d really rather he didn’t, “Because you two looked awfully chummy in those pictures.”

“And that’s why she’s in _my _jacket,” Seven stepped in, throwing that bag of pizza rolls in our cart. Along with a bag of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. Why was I not surprised?

“Oh,” Trevor looked him over, “Really, MC? Isn’t this the guy from the Googleplex event?”

“Yeah, MC,” Seven repeated with the same sense of disdain, “Isn’t this the guy from the Googleplex event?”

“Yes, on both accounts,” I confirmed, hoping the Googleplex event didn’t repeat itself.

“Really?” Trevor scoffed, “You’re still hanging around him?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I jumped on the defensive before Seven could.

“If you asked me,” he shrugged, “You’d probably be better off with Zen.”

“Excuse me?” I shot him a glare, “Who are you to say who I should and shouldn’t be with?”

“I’m just saying, MC…”

“Maybe it’s over there,” I pointed behind him, “Or maybe a few aisles over…”

“What?” Trevor asked, looking all around him.

“Where I asked you about my dating life!” I growled.

“Ooh,” Seven backed off, “That one stung. That’s my girl.”

“What?” Trevor played the victim, “I’m not allowed to have an opinion now?”

“Not when it’s something that doesn’t involve you!” I rolled my eyes, my temper getting the better of me.

“I’m just looking out for you, MC…”

“Come on, Seven,” I took his hand, making sure Trevor saw. I don’t know what got into him that turned Trevor into such a dick, but he used to be so sweet. Maybe now, he’s just starting to show his true colors, “Before I punch someone. And it wouldn’t be you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seven took me away from that mess. Bless him, “Hey, MC?”

“What?” I snapped. But in the next breath, I got myself to calm down a little, “I’m sorry, Seven. I’m just…I’m a little heated, you know? Where the hell did he get off thinking he could pull that shit?”

“Hey,” he put an arm around me, “It’s over. And thank you…For standing up for me. Not many people do that.”

“I owed you,” I laid my head on his chest while simultaneously feeling my own heart shatter to pieces, “You took care of me today. I might as well return the favor.”

“How about this?” Seven suggested, “We’ll go to my place. I got an extensive movie library and killer surround sound. And we can binge eat and watch garbage until neither one of us can see straight.”

“Ok,” I smiled again.

He knows, doesn’t he? He has to. If he doesn’t, then maybe it’s time I tell him. I know Saeran said he gets skittish when it comes to dealing with his feelings, but maybe it’s time we deal with them together.


	17. Cinematic Masterpieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a sidenote, I'd thought I'd share the fact that when I write these chapters in MS Word, I've taken to using red Comic Sans font. I feel like, considering the subject matter, Seven would be proud. And! Even though I said we weren't doing it last week, we're doing it this week! If you can guess my favorite line in this week's chapter, you get a one-shot and my undying love. And to keep it from being a needle in a haystack, Seven says it. Play nicely, kids. xx

“Saeran!” Seven threw his front door open, “I’m home! And I hope you have pants on because Jesus is watching! Also, MC is here, too, so do what you will with that information.”

“Hi, Saeran!” I couldn’t help but smile. Seven had that effect on me. As did his brother.

“Bye, Saeran,” Saeran walked out of his room, putting his jacket on, “I’m leaving.”

“What?” Seven awed, “But we just got here. Where are you going?”

“I got invited to a rave downtown,” Saeran felt around in his pockets, no doubt making sure he had everything, “I’ll probably be back late, so you two play nice.”

“We will,” Seven promised.

“And MC,” Saeran spoke softly in my ear, “If you’re careful about your next moves, this should more than make up for last night. Be careful.”

“You, too,” I wrapped my arms around his waist, “Please, Saeran. Be careful tonight.”

“I will,” he pried me off him, “See you later.”

“Bye, Saeran!” Seven waved him out the door, “Have fun! Make good choices! Oh, MC…They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“I guess,” I giggled a little, catching Saeran’s middle finger going up, “Hey, Seven, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, MC,” he allowed, “Shoot.”

“Between you and Saeran,” I wondered, “Which one of you is older?”

“Me,” Seven skipped down the hall into the kitchen, “By about thirteen minutes. I’d say it’s fitting.”

“What do you mean?” I might be digging a little too deep, but let’s see how far I can dig before he tells me to stop.

“Let’s just say…” Seven chewed on his bottom lip, “Saeran and I weren’t always as close as what we are now. We can safely call thirteen our unlucky number. But what matters now is that we have each other.”

“You know where that comes from?” I sat on his countertop while he put everything in the fridge.

“From Friday the thirteenth?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “You can thank the Catholic church for that one. Because in Norse myth, Friday the thirteenth was reserved for the fertility goddess Freyja, so if people were looking to conceive, they could have Freyja’s blessing on Friday the thirteenth and were more likely to have a baby. However, the Catholic church didn’t like the thought of so many people getting laid in Freyja’s name, so they started the superstition of Friday the thirteenth being a day for bad luck and the devil. In other words, the whole numerology of thirteen being unlucky? Bullshit.”

“Really?” Seven let out a heavy, exhausted sigh of relief, “So, you’re saying that because the Catholic church called it a sin, that’s why the number thirteen is so unlucky?”

“Precisely,” I nodded, “It’s just a number.”

“You’re not superstitious, are you, MC?”

“Not really,” I shrugged, “But that’s just me.”

“All because the Catholic church didn’t want people getting spicy,” Seven laughed, “That sounds accurate. Come on. Theater room’s this way.”

“Ok,” I jumped down from the counter and followed Seven down the hall, down a set of stairs. I wasn’t going to have my way with him on the roof. He’s not going to have his way with me in his basement. I don’t need to be paranoid. Everything’s going to be fine. Or so I thought. It’s not the thought of Seven taking me down into his basement that had me concerned. It was the big ass wall of monitors with a few of them directly linked to CCTV that had me a tad nervous, “Uh…Hey, Seven?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with all the monitors?” I asked, not wanting to think too much about it.

“Those are nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Seven scrambled to find a remote to turn them all off, “Sometimes, I need to take the office home with me. But like I said, nothing you need to concern yourself with. Come on! We’re not too far. I promise.”

That wasn’t a little unnerving. Happy place, MC. Think of it this way. If that’s what Seven’s work is on, imagine what his theater room must look like. And Seven did say he had a state-of-the-art system. Color me curious. I can only imagine his theater room. Although, when I walked in, all the imagining in the world couldn’t prepare me for what was beyond the doors. The monitors were nothing compared to the big ass screen in front of me.

“You weren’t shitting me,” I gasped, “Seven, this is a full-on theater.”

“I told you!” Seven chimed, “Ninety feet wide. Thirty feet tall. 8K HD picture. Surround sound with bass that can blow your hair back. And to tie it all together, its own concession stand. You want anything while I’m back here?”

“What the hell?” I giggled, turning around to see the little dork popped up behind the counter, “Seriously? Why am I not surprised you have a concession booth?”

“It’s better than the one at the theater downtown,” he assured, “This one is always fully stocked. Sometimes, I just come down here for the snacks. So, I’ll ask you again. You want anything while I’m back here?”

“Sure,” I nodded, “Just a soda, I guess.”

“A soda and a box of Milk Duds!” Seven decided, “Got it!”

“I never said…”

“You’re getting a soda and a box of Milk Duds,” he put his foot down, “And that’s that. Trust me. You’ll want them later and then, you’ll say, ‘Thank you, Seven. I’m so glad I decided to trust you. Milk Duds are my favorite! How did you know? You’re my hero!’. And then, I’ll tell you I told you so and probably steal a Milk Dud from you.”

“Dick,” I shook my head, “Those are my Milk Duds. But I’ll take them. Thank you.”

“See?” Seven jumped over the counter with two Dr. Peppers in his hoody pockets and a box of Milk Duds in his hand, “You’re already thanking me. You’re very welcome.”

“So,” I threw myself into an overly stuffed (and more comfortable than my own bed) black leather recliner, sinking into it like a marshmallow, “What are we screening tonight?”

“I’m kind of in the mood for one of my biggest guilty pleasures,” he handed me my soda, taking the recliner next to me and grabbing the tablet that controlled the place, “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“What’s this?” I gasped, “If I didn’t know any better, Seven, I’d think you’re showing a little bit of shame.”

“Because Saeran picks on me about this particular guilty pleasure,” Seven argued, “That’s why it’s a guilty pleasure.”

“Seven,” I took his hand, “We saw a man come onto his brother on a big screen and we can still look each other in the eye. I’m sure your guilty pleasure can’t be that bad.”

“Fine,” he threw himself dramatically over the arm of his chair, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Just tell me,” I begged, “Before I shake this can and spray it at you.”

“No!” Seven squeaked, “Vanderwood would be pissed! And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Tell me,” I started shaking, “It’s fully loaded, Seven…”

“Alright!” he took my can from me, “I got a soft spot for god-awful sci-fi movies from the sixties, ok?”

“YES, PLEASE!” my heart started racing, “I’M IN!”

“Really?” Seven caught my excitement.

“Hell yeah!” I sang, “I love shitty sci-fi movies in general, but the ones from the forties to the sixties, sometimes a bad eighties movie, if I’m feeling spicy. Yes. That’s not something you have to feel guilty about, Seven.”

“The special effects are so bad,” he cringed.

“But they’re so funny…” I applauded, “It’s like a piece of art, but a disastrous piece of art. Sometimes, I turn one on just to cheer myself up.”

“Me, too!” Seven squeaked, frantically scrolling through his list, “Oh, MC…I want to take you to the space station so bad.”

“Do it then,” I insisted, “Take me to the space station.”

“What…?” he froze entirely. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t have a shitty space movie in there somewhere,” I pointed out, curious as to what caused his brief hiccup, “And those are usually the best/worst.”

“Oh,” Seven came back to the land of the living again, “Ok. I’m down! Let’s do it!”

“Here,” I opened my box of Milk Duds and held one out to him, “So you don’t have to steal it.”

Without hesitation, Seven wrapped his lips around my fingers and still managed to find a way to steal it, “Thank you, MC. My hero.”

“You’re a dork,” I giggled, shaking my head at him. He’s lucky he’s cute.

And so, our night began with some sort of futuristic movie from the early sixties. Where the wires were visible and the sets were clearly sets. I understand the technology wasn’t quite there yet, but mother of God, there has to be a line somewhere. Then again, their shitty quality was part of their charm. Not to mention, it kept Seven and me in stitches for a solid hour and a half. 

“MC,” Seven wiped the laughter tears from his eyes, “Why are they so bad?”

“People _paid money _to see that when it was released!” I held my face in my hands, “I’m surprised the studio didn’t have to pay reparations for that!”

“If you or a loved one have been personally victimized by this movie,” he put on his best announcer voice, “You may be entitled to compensation. Call the law offices of Hooey and Shenaniganry for more information about your options.”

“The dubbing alone!” I could hardly hold myself together, “It’s like they didn’t even bother trying to sync it!”

“You know what, MC?” Seven got up from his chair to get us more drinks, “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me, too,” I agreed, “I needed to get out of my head for a while and what better way than making fun of the awful rubber suits they had those poor aliens in?”

“They looked like big condoms, MC!”

“They did,” I shuddered at the thought of them, “And this sure as hell was better than our last date.”

“What do you mean?” Seven wondered, caught a tad off guard.

“I’m not talking about us getting pancakes,” I clarified, “I’m talking about when we actually went on our one proper date. You were trying too hard to impress me, Seven. You don’t ever, ever, ever have to do that. Tonight, we just hung out. You and me, tearing apart bad special effects and worse acting and horrendous editing. I’d take tonight a million times over before I expect something like our one and only date again. You didn’t look like you were going to throw up at any given moment.”

“And you did feed me Milk Duds,” he relaxed a little, “If that’s not the very definition of romantic, then the book I read lied to me.”

“See?” I smiled, “You do not have to try, Seven.”

“But see,” Seven whined, “Here’s the thing, though. You deserve nice things. And that night was supposed to be nice things, but some not so nice things got in the way and I screwed it all up.”

“But we still made it work,” I reminded him.

“I had my face buried in my phone the whole time.”

“Still talking to me,” I kept him from spiraling, “Just in a way that was a little easier for you to manage. And I’ll tell you now what I told you then. That’s fine. I don’t have a problem with that. If that’s what you needed in that moment, then so be it.”

“Thank you,” Seven laid his head on my shoulder, “Really, MC. That night…was a dumpster fire.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a dumpster fire,” I bit my lip, “It wasn’t even in my top five worst dates, Seven. I had a guy ask me on a date once just for a clean urine sample to give to his parole officer. I didn’t even know he had a parole officer.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” I winced, “I make some killer life choices when I’m young and dumb.”

“So,” Seven wondered, “Are you going home tonight?”

“What time is it?” I looked over his shoulder at his watch. Shit, was it really that late?

“One o'clock,” he let out a big yawn, “No wonder I’m tired. It’d probably be best for you if you stay here. I mean, you did have camera crews outside your apartment today. And it is really late.”

“Ok,” I was in no position to fight him. Seven wasn’t the only one struggling to keep his eyes open.

“And you know…” Seven offered, “If you want…You don’t…have to stay in the guest room.”

My stomach dropped, “I thought Saeran said he was coming home tonight.”

“I wasn’t talking about Saeran’s bed,” he clarified, “I was talking about mine. I mean, I have been in yours. We might as well make it even.”

“Ok,” I nodded, taking his hand, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” This was happening. I was about to go into Seven’s bedroom and sleep in his bed. Likely with him in it, too. I was overthinking this, wasn’t I? No, I wasn’t. This was a big step for not only me, but for Seven, too. One small step for me was beyond a giant leap for Seven. But he suggested it. He needs to know this as well as what I do.

I followed him up the stairs and back to his bedroom. On the plus side, we were both too tired to give a shit. As long as it was a comfortable bed and a warm body, we were good. Even if it happened to be a car. I don’t judge. Without a word, we crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment or two. That is, until Seven broke the silence, “MC…”

“What is it, Seven?” I rolled onto my side.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course,” I allowed, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Seven brushed me off, “Everything’s fine. But…Do you think…Can we…maybe…”

I had a feeling I knew where he wanted to go with this. And I wasn’t going to say no. My arms pulled him to my chest and I finally got to do what I’ve been wanting to do with this boy damn near since the day we met. All I wanted to do was hold him like this. Just to give him the reassurance someone was there and that someone would always be there, “Good night, Seven.”

“Good night, MC,” I could feel all of his tight muscles loosen as he finally relaxed, “Hey, MC?”

“What?” I idly ran my fingers down his back. Granted, I didn’t think I’d be the big spoon, but I was more than happy to have him as my little spoon.

Suddenly, I felt a little smile creep across his face, “Did you ever give that guy the clean pee?”

“You asshole!” I giggled, “No, I didn’t. But you just killed the moment.”

“I made the moment great,” Seven yawned again, shutting his eyes, “Good night, MC.”

“Good night, Seven,” I cuddled him, despite every bone in my body telling me to throttle him instead. A few minutes later, I looked down and heard a soft, gentle snoring come out of this boy. In his own special way, Seven’s kind of cute when he’s asleep. 

“Well, well, well,” a teasing whisper came from the doorway, “What have we here? Did I miss something?”

“Shh,” I put a finger up to my lips, “He just fell asleep.”

“I see that,” Saeran walked in a few steps closer, “You know, MC, he’s never had a girl in his bed before.”

“I’m not all that surprised,” I held back a little giggle, “Well, someone had to be the first. Why not me?”

“I’m kind of glad it was you,” he admitted, “It’s weird to see him this close with someone.”

“It’s weird that he got this close with me,” I countered, “Thank you, Saeran. We both needed this night.”

“No problem…”

“You know what else is weird?” I noticed, “You said you were going to a rave downtown tonight, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“For being at a rave all night,” I smirked, “You came out of it pretty clean. Not a speck of glitter or blacklight paint on you.”

Saeran stopped in the doorway, “And?”

“Care to tell me where you really were tonight?” I asked.

“You caught me,” he came clean, “I went to the diner, sat on my phone, drank three pots of decaf coffee. You two needed the time alone. I figured Saeyoung would bring you back here tonight, given the shit that went down with you and Zen.”

“Nothing happened,” I assured, “Zen and I aren’t a thing. We’re just friends.”

“Clearly,” Saeran turned on his heel, “Good night, MC.”

“Good night, Saeran,” I sent him away and turned all my attention back to his brother. And good night to you, too, Seven. Sleep well. We can talk about this in the morning. But for now, I need the sleep just as much as you. If this is what I can expect from the reporters outside our apartment building, they can camp out there for a little while longer. I don’t mind.


	18. Are You Happy Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same rules apply, kids. If you can find my favorite line this week, you get a one-shot and my undying love. And your hint: Seven says it. Happy hunting, lovelies. xx

I didn't think I'd ever wake up in a car bed. Then again, Seven isn't like what some would consider a normal guy either. Not that I was complaining. It was a _damn _nice car bed. Not everyone can cut down a Lamborghini like this one. It's beautiful. That's for sure. Granted, Seven is a big boy and should have a big boy bed, but like I said, not complaining. I opened my eyes and took a good look around the room. Aside from the car bed, it was standard fare. Dresser, mirror, chair, closet. Bathroom was a little to the left. I could do better, but I also did better for a living. Here nor there.

Because that bathroom was starting to look pretty damn good. However, the second I tried peeling Seven off me, he twitched. Nope. I can hold it. Honestly, I was completely ok with it. My arms tightened around him and as if acting on reflex, Seven nuzzled his face into my side, letting out a little whimper in his sleep. Oh, Seven…How long and how badly have you needed this? How touch starved have you been? As much as it sucks, I can relate. I know he jokes about how I could have Trevor at the drop of a hat, but having been down that route already, I didn't want him. And he didn't want me. That was the part that hurt the worst. I could still hear him clear as a bell in the back of my head, saying he didn't want me. Trevor was also hella drunk that night, but drunk just said what sober didn't have the balls to. So, what do we do? We stay friends…ish.

"MC," Saeran stood in the doorway, "Are you still here?"

"Shh!" I hushed him, keeping my voice down, "Yeah. Obviously. But could you keep it down, Saeran? He's still asleep."

"Sorry," he took a seat in the aforementioned chair, swinging his legs over the arm.

"What do you want?" I asked, cradling Seven against my chest.

"I was going to grab some breakfast," Saeran explained, "I was wondering if you wanted anything while I was out."

"No," I shook my head, "But thank you. We're good."

"I see that," he pointed out, "Can I ask you something? And without you losing your shit over it?"

"Sure, Saeran," I allowed, "I'm an open book. What's on your mind?"

"Are you…" Saeran thought it over for a second or two, "Should I expect to see this kind of thing more often?"

"I don't know," I smiled a little, "That's up to him."

"Well," he figured, "You like him, don't you?"

"Of course I do," I didn't even have to question it, "I adore him dearly. Seven and I…I'd love for this to be a thing. And a regular thing at that. I mean, he's the dork from next door. The asshole that blasts Mr. Brightside when I'm trying to sleep. But if we're being completely honest here, when he took me for dinner to pay me back for his office, after that was said and done, those few days where I didn't hear from him…"

"I remember them."

"I missed him," my chest ached a little, "I got so used to having him around and hearing whatever music he was playing on the other side of the wall that I had a hard time sleeping without it. He's…I don't want to say it."

"Say what?" Saeran wondered, idly listening.

"The last time I said he was special to me," I winced, "He freaked. I didn't hear from him for a few days. And I'd hate to go back into that vicious cycle."

"He's still here now, isn't he?" he nodded toward his brother all snug in my shoulder.

"Well, yeah," I shrugged him off, "But he's also still asleep."

"Is he?" Saeran had a dirty, shit eating smirk on his face that had me doubting myself. He had a real talent for that kind of thing, "You're welcome, Saeyoung. The cat's out of the bag. Are you happy now?"

Seven cuddled a little closer into me, hiding his quickly reddening face. I don't think he was asleep, "You were awake?!"

"You were honest?" Seven looked up at me, his eyes all sparkly like he was on the verge of tears.

"Of course I was," I squeaked, "All you had to do was ask me, Seven! I would've told you! Instead, you got Saeran to corner me?"

"You let your guard down," Saeran critiqued, "That's not my fault."

"Hey, MC," Seven reached over on the nightstand and grabbed his glasses, "You want to go get breakfast?"

"Seriously?" I feel like I just got played here, "You have Saeran ask me if I'd ever be interested in a relationship with you and what my true feelings were instead of asking me yourself, yet you have the audacity to ask me for breakfast?"

"That summed it up nicely," he pushed himself out of bed, "Is that a yes or a no on breakfast?"

"On one condition," I put my foot down, "You let me ask you just one question."

"Alright," Seven allowed, "That's fair."

If he could do it, so could I, "Are you in love with me?"

I could see it in his eyes. That boy was a deer in the headlights. Come on, Seven. You're so smart. You should've seen that one coming. Yet, here we were. In lieu of an answer, he completely blew me off, "Come on, MC. We just woke up. Breakfast first. It is the most important meal of the day. Not to mention, it's awful for you to skip meals. I've taken your option away from you. We're going to get breakfast, you and I."

"Fine," I wasn't going to turn him down in the first place. I've been around Seven long enough to know somewhat how he operates. He's procrastinating with the prospects of breakfast. I had to admit, though. I was kind of hungry and something tells me I know where we'll be going. Lines in the sand needed to be drawn, though, "I will get my answer, Seven."

"And that's fine by me," Seven went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, "But you already have it!"

What? Seven's twitchy ass was an absolute Rubik's cube to figure out. If a Rubik's cube had a baby with a Rube Goldberg machine and that baby threw a cat in a bathtub, I have no doubt in my mind that's what Seven's stream of consciousness looked like. It was a simple yes or no question, yet here we have Seven overcomplicating it and speaking in riddles like some sort of bridge troll. He's already told me? He could've told me the answers to life somewhere in his nonsensical rambling tangents he does and I wouldn't have a clue. Then again, I don't think he would either.

Nevertheless, Seven and I pulled ourselves together and headed for the diner. I kind of wanted to go to the vegan place Zen took me to, but the diner had been tried and true. Why fix it if it's not broken, right? As the two of us ate our pancakes in complete silence, I glared a hole through Seven. It's not that I'm overly pissed off at him. Far from it. Although, he didn't have to use Saeran to get answers out of me. But this is Seven. He's the most extroverted introvert I have ever met in my life. All the while I was burning the inside of his brain with my eyes, the smile on Seven's face couldn't get any bigger. Which made breakfast all the more infuriating.

"MC," Seven wondered, "Are you mad at me?"

"No," I kept as level of a head as humanly possible, "Why would you possibly say such a thing?"

"Because," he pointed out, "I have a feeling that if you could shoot laser beams out of your eyes, I'd be dead where I sit. But dude! That'd be so cool! Can you shoot laser beams out of your eyes, MC? Because that would be cool as hell! You could fight crime and I could be your lovable sidekick that eventually gets a spinoff that does even better than the original series!"

"I can't shoot laser beams out of my eyes," I promised. And he's lucky I couldn't. Because he wouldn't be exactly dead where he sits. However, there'd be a nice burn mark between his eyes, "And I'm not mad. Horribly impatient, yes. But no, Seven. I'm not mad at you."

"Don't be so bitter, MC," Seven took my hand, "You'll find out in due time. But for now, you just need to wait a little longer."

"Fine," I snapped a little, ready to hit him. If he was my sidekick, his spinoff would be because of a falling out the two of us had. Which would lead to our series of one of us becoming a villain to get our vengeance against the other one, but then, we set aside our differences and go back to fighting crime together. Mother of God, I've been around Seven too much. We're starting to think alike. It could be worse.

"You know," he teased, "Your face is going to stay like that."

"No, it's not," I assured, ready to drive him through a wall. Come on, Seven. Just tell me. Relax, MC. It's like Saeran said. You don't want to scare him away and you know what kind of flight risk Seven can be. He can be exhausting, but it's totally worth it in the end. Just to pacify him, I relaxed my face. Actually…That felt much better than the angry glare I had going on.

Once the two of us were content and full of pancakes, we started heading back to my place. The only suck part was the black van still parked in front of the building. Gee, I wonder what that could possibly be. Do these people not have a hobby or is trying to get a glimpse at the girl that stole Zen's heart their idea of how to kill a Sunday afternoon? Unbelievable. I haven't had the stomach to look at the internet since the article went up. Besides, I was a little busy with shitty, low budget movies in Seven's theater.

"Hey, MC," Seven tapped on my shoulder, "Are there still photographers in front of the building?"

"Unfortunately," I grumbled, beyond done with this bullshit. A part of me wanted to scream at them that I wasn't seeing Zen, but the best thing to do is to keep my mouth shut and not give Zen's publicist more to handle.

"I'm sorry," Seven took off his hoody and wrapped me in it, "There. Is that better?"

"Yeah," I went to put the hood up only to have it knocked back down, "What the hell, Seven?"

"Don't put the hood up yet," he demanded, looking over my shoulder toward the photographers.

"Why not?" I wondered. That was the whole purpose of Seven giving me his hoody. So I could hide in it.

"Because," Seven snaked his arm around my back, making sure the cameras saw, and pulled me into something he's wanted to do since we were on the roof (if not before). As the flashes went off around us, I didn't even care they were there anymore. I didn't expect a kiss from Seven to be filled with such fiery passion, yet be so beautiful and gentle. This boy truly was an enigma, but I think he just gave me my answer, "That's why. I love you, MC. If I didn't, I wouldn't have just put my anonymity on the line for you. Because of you…It's time for the international man of mystery to just be an international man. And that's all because of the girl who stole his heart."

After that, my own heart shattered to pieces. I did it. I broke him without breaking him. Still caught in a daze and seeing spots from the camera flashes, I could only say one thing, "No."

"Wait," Seven gave me a confused look, "No? MC, I just poured my heart out to you. That's not something that happens every day. You'd have a better chance at seeing a unicorn, yet you say no?"

"And I stand by what I said," I clarified, cradling his cheek in the palm of my hand, "Because you, my dear, sweet, and wonderful Seven, will always be a mystery to me. I can promise you that. Scientists a hundred years in the future will still be picking apart your brain, wondering what exactly made it tick, and come up short."

Seven pulled me against his chest, never wanting to let me go, "That's my girl."

"Yes," I reveled in his warmth, beyond content with the world, "Yes, I am."

"Before we're mobbed," he pulled himself together, "And before you see me break down in tears, I should get going."

"Ok," I understood. He had a Saeran to get home to.

"I got a few things to take care of," Seven gently kissed my cheek, "I want you to stay inside for the day, ok? Don't come out until I come get you. If you want, I'll send you my Netflix information."

"Oh, Seven," I melted inside, "You really do love me."

"I'm serious, MC," he giggled a little, "Stay inside. Got it?"

"I will," I got one last kiss, "I'll see you soon."

"Sure will."


	19. Another PR Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, kids. Same rules apply. Find my favorite line, get a one-shot and my undying love. This week's favorite line is said by MC. Good luck. Godspeed. I'll see you next week.

The next morning, I woke up wrapped in Seven’s hoody with a whole new lease on life. I’m pretty sure it was safe to say we were a thing. If the stunt he pulled in front of the cameras yesterday didn’t prove that, nothing would. My god, I woke up in an article of his clothing. That right there was like planting a flag on the moon. It’s not like I was complaining. Seven’s hoody kept me warm. In more ways than one.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone off my nightstand, checking for messages. And look at that. Lucky me just happened to have one.

**707:**

_Good morning. :)_

**You:**

_Good morning._

_Should I expect you in the office today?_

**707:**

_Not today. :(_

_Diner tonight?_

**You:**

_What time?_

**707:**

_Say…11PM?_

_Take the night off?_

**You:**

_My pleasure._

I’m a puddle inside. Dammit, Seven. You made a bitch go soft. Not that she was very tough to begin with. Oh yeah. It’s safe to say we’re _definitely _a thing. I just hope this date doesn’t go like the first one. Seven and I may have done some considerable personal growth in the last couple days, but I’m still a tad on the skeptical side. There’s no telling if or when he’s going to backslide. As long as he’s got someone there to catch him, I think he’ll be ok.

Now, fingers crossed that the stunt from yesterday got the press to shut up about Zen and me. I pushed myself out of bed and made myself a cup of coffee. Something to warm my body and my soul. I did get creamer when I went shopping last, didn’t I? Yes, I did. Once my coffee was to my liking, I took a seat in front of my laptop and made myself comfortable in my desk chair. 

Oh…Oh, no…That’s not good.

In big, bold letters at the top of the article, it said: **ZEN LEFT HEARTBROKEN.**

Oh, shit…More PR nightmare. Why can’t I wake up from this? I’m HORRIFIED to open up my email or my blog. God only knows it’s just going to be more of Zen’s fan club tearing me a new asshole for absolutely no reason. We were never together! I was never dating Zen. I happened to be working for him when those pictures came out. And now that they’ve seen me with my actual boyfriend, they’re all going to turn on me! I’ve done nothing wrong except hang out with a friend and I have to pay the price for it. Awesome. Just awesome. Hell of a way to start my morning.

Ring, ring.

Dare I answer it? According to my caller ID, it’s Zen. But if I answer a call from Zen, does that mean I’m cheating on Seven now, too? Un-goddamn-believable. I swallowed my pride and slid my finger across my phone screen, “Hello?”

“MC?” Zen spoke on the other end, his voice full of worry and concern, “Tell me you haven’t opened up the internet this morning yet.”

“You’re too late,” I tucked my knees into my chest, leaving my phone on speaker, “Already have.”

“Are you doing ok?” he asked, treading lightly.

“I should be asking you that,” I pouted a little, “You’re the one allegedly heartbroken.”

“Those pictures of me they used,” Zen explained, “Those were stills from a new movie I’m working on used totally out of context.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled into my coffee, “But you’re not the one getting painted as a slut in a public light.”

“I’m working on it,” he assured, “And I’m in the process of getting a new publicist. Apparently, my last one was the one who gave the media those stills. My director’s pissed. But seriously, MC…Are you ok?”

“Somewhat,” I let out a heavy sigh, “I’m more pissed off than anything.”

“Since I have you here,” Zen wondered, “Out of nothing more than sheer curiosity, who was the guy in the pictures of you? The one you’re apparently cheating on me with.”

“That’s the funny thing,” I looked at those very pictures, saving one of them to my computer. Love or hate the context of it, it’s a really cute picture of the two of us, “You already know who that is.”

“You know, MC,” he pointed out, “You speak in riddles like…”

“Come on…” I coaxed him, “You’re almost there.”

“THAT WAS SEVEN?!” Zen exploded.

“That was, in fact, Seven,” I smiled, already feeling better, “That kiss was his idea. He thought it’d get them off my back.”

“So,” he started to relax a little, “Seven finally grew a pair with you, huh?”

“Yeah,” I giggled, “He did. We’re definitely a we. That’s for sure.”

“Well,” Zen perked up, “Congratulations, MC. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” I couldn’t help but wonder, though, “Hey, Zen…Since I was honest with you, could you be honest with me for a second?”

“Of course,” he allowed, “Is something bothering you?”

“You weren’t thinking…” Something tells me I need to phrase this delicately, “You and me…Were you? I mean…I’d hate to think you were _actually _left heartbroken here.”

“No,” Zen promised, “No, no, no. Seven needs something to balance out his manic, crazy ass. You’re his balance, MC. You make him simultaneously less, yet more manic than ever before. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m more concerned about you than anything. Now, are you ok? Really? I know how awful bad press can be when it comes on like this out of nowhere.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “Thank you, Zen. I’m good. I’ll be going out with Seven later tonight anyway. He knows how to get my mind off things.”

“MC,” Zen teased, “That’s a little too much information.”

“Not like that, you weirdo,” I laughed a bit, shaking my head, “I was even at his house the other night and we…”

“MC, please,” he gasped.

“Were watching shitty sci-fi movies for the sole purpose of making fun of their special effects and bad acting,” I finished. I wonder what Zen would think about the night that dare not speak its name…No. I got a feeling he’d be squeamish about that sort of thing. Or into it. I don’t judge, “Despite what your twisted fantasies may be telling you here, Zen, Seven can be quite the gentleman when he wants to be.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Zen dropped it, “But take care of yourself, MC. Please. Don’t go down the tempting rabbit holes of gossip blogs that only exist to tear you to shreds.”

“I won’t,” I promised, “Trust me, Zen. I’ve been on the internet long enough to know better than to read the comments. I don’t need that knife to the gut today.”

“Good. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Click.

It was awfully sweet of Zen to call and check up on me. I told him that day that I’d be totally fine with working on his apartment, but oh, no. Take the day off, MC. It’ll be fun, MC. There won’t be any repercussions, MC. Regardless, I needed to do damage control. Even though I always told myself that I’d never do personal posts on my professional design blog, it looks like I have no other choice. 

**EMERGENCY BROADCAST: **

_Hi, guys. I’m sorry that this post had to happen. I know my personal life isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s fine. Next week, I’ll have something more relevant to what this blog was meant to do, but for now, this needs to be put on the table. I need to be totally honest with you. Let’s start at the beginning…_

_About two weeks ago, I woke up one morning and thought I’d go to my yoga class. I hadn’t been in a few months and that needed to change. When I got there, a man took the spot next to me. Even then, I didn’t realize who he was. I just thought he was a beautiful man that happened to walk into my yoga class. Nothing more, nothing less. _

_After yoga, he and I went out for coffee, got to talking, and next thing I knew, he was asking me for a commission. I posted all about that commission. With the exemption of the hate mail from his fan club, it was met with positivity. And to make it even better, he liked it, too. Yet another satisfied customer. This is when things start to take a turn. _

_One day, I had gone into the project, not quite myself. I had some other personal things going on at the same time I was working on my commission and they were clouding my thinking. So, what happens next, you may ask? My client noticed I was feeling a little down and wanted to make me feel better. So, that brings me to now._

_This is the truth about what’s been going on with Zen and me. Don’t trust any of the other blogs doing their speculation, because this right here is the one hundred percent God’s honest truth. Context included. Zen and I aren’t a thing. We’re not an item. We never were. He’s been an excellent friend when I’ve needed one, though, and I have nothing but nice things to say about him. _

_About the guy in the recent pictures…That’s the one. That’s my real boyfriend. Not Zen. He’s…Amazing. Amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it. He’s exhausting…but wonderful. He’s ridiculous, but so very, very sweet. He’s a complete and utter mystery to me that I don’t think I’ll ever figure out. And you know what? I’m ok with that. I wouldn’t have him any other way. _

_I’m not going to be taking questions on this. I’ve said all that needs to be said. As I said before, if this wasn’t your usual preferred blog post, believe me. It’s not mine either. I didn’t think I’d ever have to take to this blog to defend myself publicly, yet here we are. Hopefully, we can move on from this and go back to the fun times we have every other week here. Good? That’s good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get ready for with this new, wonderful creature in my life. I’ll see you next week._

There. That should do it. Now, I’m going to turn off my notifications and call it a day. Seven did say we were taking the night off. Since I already got all my work done today, I can definitely take the night off. I just hope to God that Zen’s fan club finally gets off my dick about me dating Zen. At least my international man of mystery doesn’t have anything like that. Thank God for Seven’s anonymity. Before I get ready for our date tonight, a nap wouldn’t be a bad idea. In fact, since I know damn well the two of us are probably going to be out for a while, a nap would be nothing short of brilliant.

Instead of dealing with the aftermath of the new wave of pictures and my blog post, I was going to take a nap. Why? Because I’m an adult. Sometimes, a girl needs to take a knee on these kinds of things. And where better than balled up in my bed? It’s not like I ever had much for problems sleeping everywhere and anywhere. Although, I do wish Seven was working in his office today. That way, I’d at least have something to fall asleep to. Nevertheless, it was naptime for MC, so she could go out later tonight and play with her boyfriend. That sounded like a plan.

A little while later, I woke up and checked the clock. It was five o'clock. I slept three hours. That should be good enough. Now that Seven and I are a thing, I’m sure we’re going to put in a lot of late nights together like this. Some of them may end on the roof, if we’re lucky enough. I had six hours to become a functioning human being again. I could do that. 

I got a bottle of iced tea out of my fridge and sat back down at my laptop. Dare I do it? Should I do it? Zen’s words came back into my mind. Don’t do it, MC. It’s a tempting rabbit hole, but don’t do it. I shouldn’t…But I want to…But I really shouldn’t…But…I’m conflicted! I threw myself onto my couch, in an argument of will I, won’t I, back and forth with the little voices in my head. I’ve been burned on that argument many, many times before. One would think I’d learn. Maybe this time will teach me. 

I turned my notifications back on and silently prayed for them to be nice. I don’t ask for much, but some nice comments would be wonderful. To no one’s surprise, my phone went completely apeshit. That’s ok. That doesn’t mean they’re all going to be assholes calling me a slut. Again. Deep breaths, MC. Deep breaths. With great caution, I opened up my blog. Here goes nothing.

_You didn’t deserve those comments to begin with, MC. It’s your life. People need to learn to keep their nose out of someone else’s business._

Bless you.

_I hope things with you and your new boyfriend turn out well. He seems really cute from his picture._

You have no idea.

_Remember when MC actually posted about design stuff and wasn’t a trashy gossip blog? Those were simpler times._

Uh…This was _one_ post that was off brand. Get off my dick. 

It was a mixed bag of comments all ranging from people being really sweet to people being assholes to people being self-promoters. Overall, things seemed to be rather positive. That’s good. Looks like I won’t have to rely on Zen’s publicist. Now, with a clear conscience, I could get ready for my date with that alleged cutie from the pictures. 

It’s just a night out with Seven. I didn’t need to go too over the top. After the Googleplex event, I didn’t need to put him through another nosebleed. Something simple would do. I pulled out a light yellow dress and jumped in the shower. With a clear head and an open heart, I did one last spin in the mirror, letting the skirt billow out. There. Not overly cute to the point where I’ll overwhelm him and throw him into a nosebleed, but just cute enough to make myself smile in the mirror. 

Knock, knock.

I looked over at the clock again. Dammit, if that boy’s not on time. If I had to praise him for one thing, he’s definitely punctual. I slipped on a pair of black flats and ran toward the door, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Seven took my hand and pulled me into his shoulder, “You look cute tonight, MC. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a date or something.”

“Something like that,” I nodded, “This guy I know promised me a trip to the diner tonight. And if I play my cards right, he might take me to an X-rated movie theater downtown.”

“No, he won’t,” he shoved his finger in my face, “That’s not happening ever again, young lady. Your innocent eyes don’t need to partake in such shameful things as pornography.”

“Seven, when we first met, you bumped into me because your laptop was dying with a good JAV on it.”

“Fair enough,” Seven shrugged, “You ready to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then!” he sang out, “Let’s go!”


	20. Skating By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my favorite part in this week's chapter isn't obvious, leave your current location in the comments, so I can send someone to give you a bonk.

Seven was right when we first met. Well…Around the time we first met. This town had a certain kind of magic over it late at night. And I loved it. A part of me wishes I would’ve thought about that while I was doing his office. I would’ve put a couple neon signs in there, too. Oh, well. Hindsight’s 20-20. But I loved going out late at night like this. Especially with Seven. And definitely to this diner. Granted, it’s not the most orthodox favorite date location, but a 7-Eleven parking lot with a pack of Twinkies could be a favorite date location if it’s with the right person. The diner just happened to be our parking lot.

“So?” Seven wondered, peering over his pancakes at me, “Have you hired PR yet, MC?”

“No,” I groaned, not even wanting to think about that mess, “Zen says he’s got it covered. And I hope he gets it covered quickly. I’m sick of dealing with this bullshit.”

“But by the looks of things,” he pulled his phone out of his hoody pocket, “Zen’s not the only one who has this covered. Because I think you do, too.”

“What do you mean?” I wondered.

“You’re the one who gave me the link to your blog, MC,” Seven scrolled down a little way, “There we are. That’s what I was looking for.”

“What were you looking for?” my stomach dropped.

“I’m a complete and utter mystery to you that you don’t think you’ll ever figure out?” Oh, shit…Seven’s reading my blog. Why, God? What did I ever do to deserve that? “And you wouldn’t have it any other way…Oh, MC. You’re truly a wordsmith. So much for you not ever wanting to get personal on main.”

“I didn’t know you read my blog, Seven,” I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to reach across the table and smash his phone to bits.

“Of course I do!” Seven gasped, “I’m _appalled _you thought otherwise. I’ve read your blog from top to bottom, MC. But this post? This one takes the cake. Very transparent. Very moving. I shed a tear or two. A heartwarming experience. A poet of our generation, my dear MC.”

“You’re such a dork,” I threw a sweetener wrapper at him.

“That seems to be the rumor,” he shrugged, “But look on the bright side. I’m _your _dork.”

“Somehow,” I giggled, melting inside. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get freaked out over me dropping the boyfriend bomb publicly like that before we even discussed it. I think he likes the title. We’ll chalk that up as a good sign.

“Hey!” Seven squeaked, “I have a surprise for you!”

“Really?” I perked up. Seven surprises were always a surprise. And the thought of a Seven surprise concerned me. Because the last time Seven surprised me, it ended up on the front page of every local gossip blog I could find. So, color me skeptical. 

“Finish your pancakes first,” he insisted, “It’s bad for you to skip meals, MC. But I super duper pinky promise this is a good surprise.”

“Just tell me,” I nudged him under the table

“I can’t do that!” Seven stopped me, “Because if I do that, then it won’t be a surprise. You’ll see soon enough. I bet you looked at your Christmas presents early, too, didn’t you? Why do you hate Christmas, MC?”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” I rolled my eyes, “You’re exhausting.”

“It’s a good thing you have those pancakes then,” he pointed out, “Because those pancakes will give you the necessary fuel your body will need in order for me to give you this special surprise! And you will get said surprise after you finish your pancakes, but before you go home tonight.”

“Ok…” This boy was truly a mystery. But in order to figure out the mystery of whatever Seven’s surprise for me happens to be, I needed to inhale the rest of my pancakes, so we could get the hell out of here. Because despite me being concerned with what Seven’s planning, I’m just as curious. I needed to know. And most importantly, I didn’t want to give Seven the satisfaction of knowing I would always get in trouble as a kid for peeking at my Christmas presents. 

By the time my plate was absolutely spotless right down to the last drop of strawberry syrup, Seven and I took off for whatever this surprise may be. I had no clue what to expect. The last time Seven took me somewhere for a surprise, it ended up being two nude gentlemen that neither one of us needed to see. I knew better, though. Seven wasn’t taking me to the porn theater. Instead, he brought me somewhere I didn’t know even existed in this town. 

“A roller rink?” I stared up at the neon sign while Seven pulled a set of keys out of the door, “You don’t own this place, do you?”

“No,” Seven explained, “I know the guy that does, though. And he gave me the keys for the night. I told you I had something to take care of today and now, you know what that something is.”

“What are we doing at a roller rink at 2AM?” I wondered, “Or is the roller rink the surprise?”

“Well,” he pushed the door open and held it for me, “Because we never got to finish our dance the other night…I figured we could do that here. If that’s alright with you. Not that the rooftop wasn’t romantic. But I thought an empty roller rink would tug at the heartstrings, too. And if we so desire, we could finish that dance on wheels!”

“I’d end up hurting myself,” I pointed out, “And I know damn well you would, too.”

“I don’t know,” Seven shrugged, “I’m pretty good on a pair of skates. Do you have a song preference or should I just play traffic noises and you make something out of that?”

“I don’t trust your music tastes,” I shoved my finger in his chest, “I’ve lived next door to your office for the last couple months and I know the weird, off the wall shit you listen to. I’ll pick something.”

“Alright,” he allowed, “Lady’s choice. Go ahead. The booth is over there.”

“Thank you,” I skipped over to the sound booth and scrolled through their list of music. My god…There were some in here that I was almost sure they were made up. But still, I kept scrolling until I found something absolutely perfect. And I hit gold with a gem from the late nineties. Granted, it doesn’t exactly hold up to some of the pop masterpieces of today, but for a little bit of nostalgia for a simpler time, nothing hit quite like Steal My Sunshine. 

As the opening beat started to play, Seven looked over at me, not sure what to make of this, “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” I went down into the rink, meeting Seven in the middle.

“Of all the songs you could’ve picked,” he pulled me into his chest, “I kind of expected you to play some sappy love song that would make us all teary-eyed and have us crying in the club. But you pull out Steal My Sunshine?”

“Well,” I hid my face in his shoulder, “I know this guy who is kind of like sunshine on legs. And I don’t know about you, but I’d be devastated if someone took that away from me.”

“Me, too,” Seven hugged me tight, moving me with him.

“Hey, Seven…?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you really take me here tonight?” I wondered, “I’m sure it wasn’t just so we could finish our dance.”

“It was completely so we could finish our dance,” Seven promised, “It was somewhere that had no Saeran, no worrying about work, no worrying about the paparazzi outside our building. You’ve done so much for me, MC, that I couldn’t even begin to thank you for, so I figured the least I could do was finish a dance with you. For the sake of my hopes and dreams.”

“Of course,” I curled into him.

“No, no, no,” he lifted my chin to his lips, “You are not hiding that pretty face of yours away from me. Don’t steal my sunshine, MC.”

“I won’t,” I swore, “But only if you don’t steal mine.”

“Deal,” Seven snuck in another kiss on me. What can I say? The little shit’s got moves, “Hey, MC…”

“What?”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked.

“Why?” I wondered, “So you can shut down the roller rink for me again?”

“I’m serious,” Seven giggled, “Do you have any plans?”

“Not that I can think of,” I told him, “I’m taking a sabbatical from my blog until this shit with Zen dies down. If you so desire, you could have me all to yourself tomorrow. Technically, today, but semantics. Why do you ask?”

“Because,” he spun me around, “I want you to meet a friend of mine if that’s ok. I promise he’s not an asshole, nor will he try to steal you away from me. Or attempt to harvest your organs. Although, if I think about it, this would be a hell of a way to go about doing that. Get you to fall hopelessly in love with me, then take you to meet my ‘friend’, who is actually the surgeon behind everything. BAM! Next thing you know, you’re waking up in a bathtub full of ice and short a kidney and a few pints of blood.”

“Jesus Christ, Seven,” I shook my head, “What have I gotten myself into?”

“You knew,” Seven shoved his finger in my chest, “You knew damn well what you were getting yourself into.”

“Thank God for that ass,” I teased, “But yes, Seven. I’ll meet your friend. That’s fine by me.”

“Good,” he kissed my cheek, “Because…Out of all my friends, he’s…really important. Probably the most important.”

“Ok,” I snaked my arms up his back, “But for now, we have tonight. Remember? No worries. Just you and me?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

Seven and I continued our dance until the song ended. After that, it was time to go home. We were both tired. And Seven. being the gentleman he is, was kind enough to walk me home. Fortunately, the camera crews had packed up and gone home for the night, too. Was that going to stop me from stealing Seven’s hoody? Of course not. I had to sleep in something. If I remember correctly, Seven liked to steal my silky nightie. It’s only fair.

“Well…” Seven and I stood outside my apartment. And I got one last kiss out of him, “Good night, MC.”

“Good night, Seven,” I stopped him before he could leave me, “You know…If you wanted to come inside, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. It is late and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed together.”

“I can’t,” he shot me down, “As much as I’d love to. But I really should be going. I love you, MC. Go to bed.”

“I love you, too,” I sent Seven off and went inside. Something about hearing him tell me he loved me warmed my little heart to no end. I still couldn’t believe that we were actually a thing. But if I’m going to be meeting Seven’s friend, I should probably be well rested for something like that. So, just as he told me, I got into my pajamas and crawled into bed, settling in for a long, well-deserved sleep…That is until I heard something on the other side of my bedroom wall. What the hell…?

It sounded like a horn section. And then, some drums kicked in. That’s weird. I’ve never heard this one come out of Seven’s office. I bet he had to get back to work. That’s why he couldn’t stay with me tonight. Oh, well. I understand. Whatever this song was, it sounded like something from the sixties. That didn’t strike me as Seven’s usual decade of choice, but like I said, the boy is a mystery. But then, the lyrics kicked in. Was this the Beach Boys?

_Don’t know if words can say…_

_But darlin’, I’ll find a way…_

_To let you know what you meant to me…_

_Guess it was meant to be…_

_I hold you in my heart…_

_As life’s most precious part…_

_Oh, darlin’…_

My…Heart…I couldn’t hold tears back if I wanted to. And someone was going to answer for this. And my money was on the asshole next door. I threw Seven’s hoody on and left my apartment to pound on my neighbor’s door. Before he could see, I wiped the tears off my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Seven answered the door, “Was the music too loud?”

I threw myself into Seven’s chest, letting my tears soak through his t-shirt, “I love you, Seven…”

“I love you, too,” he held me tight, “You want to come in?”

“Please.”


	21. A Word From Our Lord and Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. So…Here we are. If you weren’t here for the Switch update yesterday, I know things are garbage right now. I’m happy to be here and to provide you with an escape from said steaming pile of garbage. If you’re looking for someone to hang out with, I’m thinking about going live on Instagram sometime this week. My handle is lumiolivier. I’ll be putting it on Twitter (@MsLOlivier) if/when I go live, so there’s that. I have no idea what that stream would be like or anything like that, but we’ll wing it. K? I love you. Be safe. Kisses! X

I didn’t expect to wake up to the sound of a keyboard clacking in my ear. Or in my boyfriend’s lap. Although, surprisingly, Seven’s thighs are quite comfortable. They made a hell of a pillow. That’s for sure. I still couldn’t believe what he did last night. All I wanted to do was get some sleep. But oh, no! The asshole next door has to blast his music and simultaneously tear my heart out. Worth it. Totally worth it.

“Well…” Seven spoke gently, brushing my hair out of my face, “Good morning, sunshine. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” I rubbed my eyes, laying my head back in his lap, “How long have you been awake?”

“Since…” he looked down at his watch, “About noon yesterday.”

“Seven,” I scolded him as he went back to his laptop resting on the end table, “That’s not good for you. You need sleep, too!”

“I’m not tired,” Seven didn’t even break eye contact with the screen, “I’ve answered four emails and a Skype call already. I’m not tired. But you were.”

“Because I have a human sleep schedule.”

“Show off,” he stuck his tongue out at me, “You know, you’re really cute when you’re sleeping, MC.”

“I’m sorry,” I winced, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that last night. When I came over, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Oh, hush,” Seven put his laptop down and pulled me into his arms, “It’s ok, MC. You can fall asleep on me any time you want. Even if it’s in the middle of the day. Dude, if you ever wanted to turn a date into a nap, I would not turn that down. That sounds like love.”

“Then, we may have to have a date this afternoon,” I decided, “Please, Seven…Get some sleep. If you don’t, not only will it make you bitchy, but…”

“Not me,” he shook his head, “I get giggly as hell when I’m tired. You could tell me someone kicked the crap out of Saeran and he’s in critical condition and I’d be rolling. I know. Horrible thing to do, but in my defense, I’d also be super, super tired. I don’t get bitchy.”

“That’s not all it does,” I shoved my finger in his chest, “Sleep is your body’s reset button. Please…I don’t ask much from you, but get some sleep.”

“I will later,” Seven kissed the top of my head, “Pinky promise. But for now, I want you to meet my friend. He was the one I had the Skype call with this morning. He sends his love.”

“That’s sweet of him,” I pushed myself up, not really wanting to get up, “I’m going to go home real quick. I’ll be back in a bit, ok?”

“Ok,” he let me go, “Could we leave in an hour?”

“That’s fine by me,” I allowed, “Can I trust you to not get into any shenanigans while I’m gone?”

“No promises.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” I gave him one last kiss and headed back to my apartment. 

Where was my phone? I needed to make a call. But I also needed to make it in a room that wasn’t directly attached to Seven’s office. Bathroom? Bathroom would work. Besides, I needed to take a shower anyway. I grabbed my phone off the kitchen counter and turned my shower on. That was plenty of noise, right? I’d think so. Let’s see…S…S…S…S! 

“Good morning, MC…”

“Hi, Saeran,” I smiled a little.

“How are you?” Saeran asked.

“I think I did it,” I could hardly contain myself.

“And we’re all so proud,” he grumbled, a tad confused, “Remind me again. Why are we all so proud?”

“I started chipping away at Seven’s pattern,” I reported, “I stayed overnight in his office. I’m pretty sure we maintained contact all night. I even got a kiss good morning. And now, he’s asking me to meet a friend of his today. I think I’ve really started chipping at that pattern.”

“Oh, MC…” Saeran sighed out, “No, no, no. You didn’t _start _chipping at the pattern. You put a bomb in front of it and blew it all to hell. That pattern doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve already broken it. Once Saeyoung put himself out there for the world to see because of you, _that _was the moment when you could say you broke his pattern. I saw the pictures, by the way.”

“And?” I could feel my heart swelling in my chest, “What’d you think? They’re cute, right?”

“Nauseating is more like it,” he chuckled a little, “But I’m proud of you. Both of you. Saeyoung may be a pain in my ass, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be miserable. And if he’s got himself a girlfriend, that means him spending less time here, so I get the house to myself more often.”

I got one brother down…There’s still one more to go, but I’m pretty sure Saeran wouldn’t be too difficult to take care of. If I can manage Seven, I sure as hell could manage Saeran, too, “Hey, Saeran…Seven said he was introducing me to a friend of his today…You wouldn’t happen to know who that would be, would you?”

“No,” Saeran shot me down, “Sorry, MC. I don’t exactly keep a list of my brother’s friends in my back pocket. And even then, it’d be narrowed down to the ones in the area. And even then, it’d be iffy. I wish there was more I could tell you.”

“It’s alright,” I brushed him off, “No worries. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve met someone new that I wanted to impress. And it probably won’t be the last.”

“Good luck, MC.”

“Thanks,” I hung up my phone and finally got into the shower. So, I did it, did I? This is what Seven’s pattern looks like broken. I did it. He’s mine. If I could break Seven’s pattern, who’s to say I couldn’t do the same thing with Saeran? In fact, I’m taking it as a personal challenge. But for now, I needed to get ready. If I’m meeting Seven’s friend and he’s a rather important one, I might as well look cute. But then again, my whole thing was that I could look cute, but I could also look effortlessly cute. 

I took out a long, gray dress and Seven’s hoody and I’m pretty sure that would work. It wouldn’t be excessively hot outside today, but it still wasn’t warm enough to be out in a tank top. At least I still had Seven’s hoody. It’s shot up to one of my favorite pieces of clothing very quickly. And it wasn’t even mine! Nevertheless, I had a date with two gentlemen to get ready for. By the time I was ready, I looked pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.

I looked myself over in my bedroom mirror, really starting to feel myself. Damn, bitch. Who gave you the right? I did. I gave me the right. Did I earn it? No. I merely went in and took it for myself. Why? Because despite the fact that I may not have earned it, that didn’t mean I didn’t deserve it. I look like an absolute queen who could eat the hearts of any of the beauty bloggers I wanted! But I wouldn’t do that. Because I was a sweetheart to the beauty bloggers. Granted, they were the Barbie dolls of the blogging community, but that didn’t mean I wanted to tear them down. They worked hard to get where they were. 

“Aren’t you a cute, little thing?” Seven gave me a goddamn heart attack from my bedroom door, “Ready yet, MC?”

“Jesus Christ, Seven…” I waited for my heart to settle back into my chest, “When and how in the hell did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” he reported, “And you left your door unlocked. You know, for a young lady who lives by herself, you really should be more careful. You never know what kind of weirdos would just walk in. Especially when you look so cute!”

“I’ll take the compliment,” I fell into Seven’s arms, “But I’ll take the spanking later.”

“Wow…” Seven gasped, “I mean…I figured it’d be a little early in our relationship for that. I don’t know too much about kinky stuff, but I guess I can pick up a book. But I’m not sure how I feel about the ones with pictures in them. I bet Anthony knows a thing or two, but he’s into his brother. I can’t say the same. Not that Saeran isn’t adorable, but I kind of have to say that. We have the same face.”

“Seven,” I stopped him, “I didn’t mean an actual spanking. That was more of a metaphorical thing. You don’t need to pay Anthony a visit. And I have to agree with you. Saeran is a cutie.”

“Hey!”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” I reminded him, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Awesome,” Seven snuck in a little kiss, “He’s already waiting on us.”

“Heaven forbid we keep him waiting any longer,” I took Seven’s hand and the two of us headed out.

I wasn’t expecting us to go to that same café we went to our first brunch together. Oh, the memories. Those seem so long ago now. We’ve come so far since our first date…In the daylight anyway. Seven led me up the stairs and sat me in front of a blue hair man in dark glasses. Huh…Is this the guy or did Seven accidentally sign us up for speed dating? I didn’t think he was down for a polygamic thing, but…

“Hello, Luciel,” the man smiled, his voice soft and gentle like a summer breeze. I already like him.

“V!” Seven squeaked, “How long did you know we were here?”

“Ever since you sat down,” he explained, “Haven’t I taught you that it’s impossible to sneak up on a blind man? Not to mention, you’re kind of distinct.”

“Aww, shucks,” Seven melted, “You didn’t have to say that.”

“So, Luciel,” he asked, “You sounded rather excited when we talked this morning. Care to explain why?”

“I wanted you to meet someone,” Seven smiled at me, taking my hand and putting it into his, “This is my…Girlfriend, MC.”

“The blogger, right?”

My heart stopped, “You know about me?”

“Mostly by reputation,” he nodded, carefully studying my hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, MC. You may call me V.”

“It’s nice to meet you, V.” I like him. He seems…otherworldly. Not like Seven’s kind of otherworldly where the mothership is still looking for him. Like…an ethereal kind of otherworldly. Like an angel who fell to Earth and is trying his best to salvage mankind. Wait…Now I knew who this guy was, “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Really?” V perked up, a bit confused, “Luciel has talked about me?”

“Once,” I remembered, “You’re…”

“Yes,” V cut me off, “The…”

“The photographer,” I thought back to Seven sprawled out on my bed in my pajamas, talking about his friend V. It only took me until now to put two and two together.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I caught him off guard, “You know of my work?”

“Uh-huh,” I shook off the delightful memory. For the time being anyway, “I’ve seen some of it. You’re incredible.”

“Thank you, MC,” V melted, “It’s been so long since I’ve been behind a camera that I doubt I’d be able to do it anymore. Retirement only makes me want to get back into it again. But unfortunately, given my condition, I don’t think I could ever do it again.”

“Not necessarily,” I explained, “Technology is an incredible thing. You’d be amazed at how far accessibility has come. There are ways to mod cameras to where they say when things are in focus and when they aren’t. I bet that a certain someone with, I have no doubt, a genius IQ could figure out how to do that.”

“Is that me?” Seven chirped, “Because I’d be happy to mod a camera for you, V. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very kind of you,” V awed, “If you’d like, you can come and peruse any of my cameras you’d like.”

“Yay!”

“I’m glad you brought her here, Luciel,” V approved, a smile on his face, “For more than just that. Because I’d like to ask you a question, if that’s alright, MC.”

“Sure,” I allowed, “What’s on your mind?”

“On your blog,” V began, “It says that you accept commissions.”

“That’s right,” I confirmed, “Sometimes, they’re surprise commissions from other people.”

“And I said thank you,” Seven kissed my cheek. 

“Who asked you to do Luciel’s office?” V wondered.

“Saeran,” I came clean, “Well…If we’re being honest, I got a peek inside once while Saeran was there. And I couldn’t help myself. I had to. It became a white whale and it needed to be mine.”

“You definitely made it yours, MC,” Seven agreed, “And like I said, I said thank you.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled a bit, “In the form of the most awkward date we’ve ever had.”

“Hey,” Seven defended, shoving his finger in my shoulder, “You’re with me now, baby. Every date we go on is going to be awkward.”

“You’re a dork, Seven,” I sighed out, “But more importantly, were you wanting to ask me for a commission, V?”

“A little more serious than a commission,” V went on, “I’d like to speak to you about an organization called the RFA. Have you ever heard of it?”

“I think so,” I knew it was a charity thing. They had a representative at a Googleplex event I went to ages ago, “What about it?”

“Every so often,” V continued, “The RFA throws these rather lavish parties. It would be wonderful if, acting as the head of the organization, I could hire you for a little more than just a commission.”

“What do you mean?” I felt a sudden burst of butterflies in my stomach.

“I know how difficult it is living on commission work,” V took my hand, “And given that your apartment is next door to Luciel’s office…”

“How did you know that?” I cut him off.

“Come on, MC,” Seven scoffed, “A cute girl moves in next door to me and you expect me to keep that to myself? No, no, no. I’m sorry, but that’s not how we play here.”

“Anyway,” V interjected before Seven and I could escalate this any further, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like for you to be our party planner. Of course, that would mean handling the guest list and everything else that would entail with a good party. And I would pay you quite well. The job is yours if you want it.”

“It’d be really neat if you said yes, MC,” Seven begged, “You know you want to.”

“And…” I asked, “You can just do that, V? Hire me out of the blue? This seems like something you’d have to get the approval of the rest of the organization with.”

“Then, I’ll ask the only available member for his opinion,” V insisted, “Luciel, should we hire MC?”

“Yes, please,” Seven nodded…vigorously, “Come on, MC. Then, we could both be on the same payroll…Please?”

Something about the prospects of good, steady income sends my heart all aflutter. I could still run my blog, but I wouldn’t have to go to shit like the Googleplex event and whore myself out for money. I’d be able to run my blog out of the sheer enjoyment of it. And chances are, I could probably add some of the things I do for the RFA parties to said blog. Besides…It’s hard to say no to Seven’s pouty little face. 

“Alright,” I agreed, “I’m in. How long until my first party?”

“Can you have it taken care of in a week?” V asked.

“Absolutely.”


	22. Mr. Brightside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends. And I say that with the utmost sincerity. I feel like I’ve made friends from this story. It sucks that this is the last chapter, though. But I’ve been at this one since November and it’s time for it to end. It’s been a hell of a ride, though. I’m going to miss seeing you guys every Tuesday. By this time next week, this story’s going to become an Attack on Titan fic. I know. An odd juxtaposition. But if it makes you feel any better, the Ouran High School Host Club fic I ended yesterday is getting replaced with Castlevania fic, so…Hindsight’s 20-20. But thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I love you guys and I’ll see you later. 
> 
> You know what, though? For the last chapter, if you can find my favorite line, and I have a few in this chapter, you get a one-shot and my eternal, undying love. And from those who find those lines, I pick one of you at random for a little extra special surprise. I won’t tell you what that is, but you’ll find out.

I did it. There were times where I thought I wasn’t going to make it. So many all-nighters, a few cancellations that thought were going to make my heart give out. But dammit, I did it. I managed to pull together an RFA level party in exactly a week. By the looks of things, we’re going to have a full house tonight, too. It’s been a pain in the ass and I’ve been stressed to the gills all week, but dammit, I did it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to arrange a date with Zen this week. God knows I could’ve used it. But on the plus side, I did have someone next door that stayed in his office all week in case I needed something. I swear, I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. Whenever things were starting to look bleak and I wanted to throw myself into oncoming traffic, Seven was the one who pulled me back to the curb. And God bless him for it. For now, though, I knew I was prepared for a good, strong drink and a night off. 

Along with not being able to have that date with Zen I was in desperate need of, I had no time to go find something to wear to this damn thing. I was too busy planning it! It’s not like I could get away from that for an afternoon to go shopping. Yet again, that was a job delegated to Seven. The thought of it initially made me cringe. It was the Googleplex event all over again. And my gut told me that Seven was going to come home with a banana suit. I didn’t have a chance to look at what he picked out until a couple hours before the party.

The garment bag hung on the back of my closet door, practically vacuum sealed. Seven wouldn’t let me look at it. He’d slap my hands away anytime I’d reach for the zipper. He promised me, though, that it was my size and tasteful. Yet I couldn’t help but worry if he trolled me. Because if we’re being honest, it wouldn’t surprise me. It wouldn’t be a banana suit. It’d be something more along the lines of a cat maid costume or a slutty nurse or something of the like. Hey, God? Tell me Seven didn’t troll me. Tell me Seven got me something presentable. This is my first RFA party and I don’t want to screw this up.

Seven had gone to get his suit from the cleaners and left me alone in my apartment to get ready. Well…Moment of truth. Slowly, I pulled the zipper on the garment bag, keeping my eyes shut in silent prayer. This won’t be a troll job. This won’t be a troll job. This won’t be a troll job. Seven loves me enough to where I can trust him with things like this and I’m not showing up to my first RFA party in a banana suit. Or as a slutty nurse…Or a cat maid. Or anything that wasn’t perfect for this.

When I opened my eyes, my heart stopped. Oh, Seven…I’m sorry I ever doubted you. A deep blue dress hung on the back of my closet door against the white bag. In a way, it kind of reminded me of the red dress I wore to the Googleplex event. Although, the neckline wasn’t as deep as the red dress. But the silhouette was relatively the same. And the sparkles at the waist were a nice touch. Goddamn, Seven…I underestimated you. 

Gold. I’m thinking gold for the accessories. Even though I was half tempted to go with a bright red heel with this dress, I had a pair of gold flats that would work even better. Heels and I were rarely a good combination and since I had intentions of drinking this evening, heels were just downright dangerous. Gold flats. Gold flats would work just fine with this dress.

After one last look in the mirror, I made my own heart stop. Hello there, you gorgeous piece of ass, you. Holy shit. Seven did a nice job. I couldn’t stop looking at myself. Not to be a massive narcissist, but…Why couldn’t those paparazzi photos of Zen and me look more like this? Because mother of God, I’m almost too hot for TV. I could go home with anyone from this party I wanted. I just hope the guy I _am _going home with knows what he’s done. Because he may have created a monster. 

“Honey!” Speak of the devil, Seven yelled from the front door, “I’m home! Are you ready yet?”

“Almost!” I just needed a few more looks being served in this mirror. Yep. Seven’s created a monster. I didn’t have much of an ego until now. But now…My ego needs its own zip code and may possibly have its own orbit if I’m not stopped.

“I’m sure you’re fine, MC,” Seven groaned, walking toward my bedroom, “So, it’s your first RFA party and you want to make a good impression. I get it. But V already adores you, thanks to a good recommendation from yours truly. You already know Zen and I think he’s pretty sweet on you, too. Saeran, as bitter as he can be, has a soft spot in his heart for you. And I love you, so you’re already in good with four of the members. And one of them happens to be the head of the organization. You’re fine.”

“Oh, I know I’m fine,” I winked at my reflection, “But do you know what you’ve done?”

“What do you mean?” he wondered, “Do I get to see you some time tonight or no?”

“Alright then,” I allowed, “It’s your funeral.”

“Are you going to kill me yourself, MC?” Seven teased as I walked out of my bathroom. I could see his heart stop in his eyes, “Ok…I get it now.”

“You did this to me, Seven,” I kissed his cheek.

“All I did was buy the dress,” he blinked the stars out of his eyes, “And I didn’t think I’d hear you say that very phrase until you were giving birth to our first child and pissed off for me getting you pregnant in the first place. Wait…Possibly children. Twins kind of run in the family on my side.”

“Excuse me?” I gave him a look, “Since when are we already family planning here, Seven?”

“I’m not saying let’s have a little league team right now,” Seven assured, “I mean…I know it’s kind of a stereotype for Catholic families to be huge, but if you don’t want to put your body through something like that, I’m not going to force it.”

“Way to drink your respecting women juice today, baby,” I laid my head on his shoulder, “But I’m just giving you shit. You’re fine. Little league team, not little league team. When it happens, it’ll happen, and we’ll figure out shit from there.”

“But before we do that,” he laced his fingers between mine, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I’m ready. What about you?”

“As ready as I’m going to be,” Seven put an arm around me, “Can I just make one little request?”

“What’s that, Seven?”

“After this party is over,” he asked, “Can we go out for pizza?”

“What?” I sat up, “Seven, I hired some top-notch caterers for this event and you’re wanting to get pizza after?”

“…Please?”

“No,” I shot him down with a better plan in mind, “We are not getting pizza after the RFA party.”

“Aww…”

“We should get going, though,” I got up from my bed, “Shall we?”

“Car’s up front,” Seven shooed me out of my room, “And by the way, MC…”

“What?” Without another second, Seven took my hand and gave me a quick spin, making me a little dizzy, “What the hell was that for?”

“I just wanted a better look,” he shrugged, “And you look absolutely stunning. Are you sure I don’t have to be weird and hover you the whole party because you could very easily trade up and find someone better suited to your standards?”

“Seven,” I shut him up, “You are my standards. You don’t have to worry. If I didn’t run off on you the night of the Googleplex event to have weird, drunk sex with Trevor, I’m not going to run off on you tonight either. You don’t have to worry about me. Do I need to worry about you?”

“Are you kidding?!” Seven freaked, “If we ever break up, I don’t think I’ll ever find better than you. At this point, in my limited dating experience, you’re kind of the god tier.”

“Aww,” I melted inside, “I’m not sure if that’s cute or sad. But I love you, too. Now, let’s get to this party, so we can not get pizza after.”

“Tease.”

And so, Seven got my car door for me and the two of us headed off to the RFA party. I did good. I picked a beautiful venue that’s served as the home of a couple different Googleplex events over the years and the first one I ever went to. How fitting that it’s where I host my first RFA party, too. There were already a lot of people at the front door, trying to get in. Lucky for us, we didn’t go in through the front door. After Seven gave the valet his keys, we went in through the door in the alley like a couple of hoodlums. And if we’re being honest, I kind of loved it.

Then, the doors open and the bodies started pouring in. I wasn’t sure how to handle one of these parties, but I’ve done enough trips through the Googleplex wringer that it was practically muscle memory. I’m sure it won’t be too terribly difficult. All I knew was one thing for sure. I’m starving and I want to see if the caterers I hired were as up to snuff as their website said they were. Just don’t stuff your face, MC. I know you want to and dammit, it’s tempting, but don’t you do it. You know what’s coming after this event and you do not want to be horrendously full for that.

“I know you…” a deep, silky voice boomed behind me and my heart stopped. You’re here with someone, MC. Don’t let that shatter your ovaries. Although…In my defense, I think Seven would understand. When I turned around, I was not expecting my new friend…Nor was I expecting him to be hot. However, I’ll chalk that up as a bonus.

“You’re…” I struggled to formulate a complete sentence, “You’re…Jumin Han.”

“Last time I checked,” he confirmed, looking me over, “Forgive me if I’m being forward, but have I ever chased you out of the C&R dumpster?”

“Um…” I bit my bottom lip, hiding my minor shame. 

“Jumin!” Seven, I love you so much right now. 

“Hello, Luciel,” Jumin wasn’t going to look away from me, still trying to place me as the chick from the C&R dumpster.

“I see you’re chatting up my lady friend,” Seven snaked his arm around my waist. Have I mentioned how much I love this boy right now? Because I do. Dammit, I do. 

“Lady friend?” Jumin wondered, “Since when do you go out and meet people?”

“Do you pay no attention to the chatrooms?” Seven groaned, “Wow, Jumin. I’m disappointed. Anyway, not disappointed enough to stay away from gushing about my girlfriend. This is MC. She planned this whole party! I’m so proud of her.”

“You did a lovely job with it,” Jumin approved, “That still doesn’t answer if you’ve rifled through the C&R dumpster before.”

“She’s probably furnished half her apartment out of the C&R dumpster!” Dammit, Seven. You dropped the ball.

“No,” I clarified, “I have not furnished half my apartment with dumpster furniture from C&R.”

“What about your bookshelf?” Seven asked, “The nice white one.”

“...Yeah.” Dammit, Seven.

“And what about your desk? Wasn’t that C&R dumpster furniture, too?”

“No!” I stood my ground, particularly proud of that one, “I built that desk with my bare hands, thank you. When I say I have a driftwood desk, I’m not talking about the prefabricated bullshit driftwood. That’s legit.”

“But the chair?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “That came out of the C&R dumpster…”

“Congratulations, Luciel,” Jumin praised, “Your girlfriend is a racoon.”

“She’s actually several racoons in a trenchcoat,” Seven shrugged, hugging me tight, “But she’s my several racoons in a trenchcoat.”

“Thanks, Seven,” I grumbled, “Now, everyone’s going to know my secret.”

“She’s…” Jumin wasn’t sure what to think about me. Rightfully so, “Definitely something else.”

“Hey, Jumin!” Seven’s train of thought did a complete one-eighty, “Did you bring a certain special lady with you, too?”

“The only lady I brought with me is Assistant Kang,” Jumin rolled his eyes, “Even if I did bring Elizabeth III, the restraining order is still in effect.”

“Come on,” Seven begged, “I just want to pet her.”

“I’ve seen how you pet her,” Jumin started getting angry, “You do not _just _pet her.”

“Let me love her!” Seven whined.

“Uh…” I was lost, “What the hell is happening?”

“Is something wrong, Mr. Han?” a striking woman stood next to Jumin. I feel like if I looked at her wrong, she could kill me with her bare hands. But at the same time, she had a look in her eyes that suggested she’d be far too tired to do it.

“Do you remember me talking about our dumpster rat, Assistant Kang?” Jumin asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” he shot a look at me, “It turns out that not only did our dumpster rat plan this party, but she’s also Luciel’s girlfriend.”

“Don’t be like that, Jumin,” Seven whined, “If she can make her apartment look like it was high end with trash furniture from the C&R office, this was just an inevitability.”

“It’s just simple repurposing, Mr. Han,” she settled him, finding somewhere for him to cool off. Then, in a strange turn of events, she shook my hand, “Hello, MC. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Jaehee Kang. Please excuse Mr. Han’s behavior. Sometimes…He can be a little…”

“Go ahead, Jaehee,” Seven allowed, “This is a safe space. Tell us how you really feel.”

“Well,” Jaehee winced, “I don’t want to say insufferable. That’s not the right word.”

“Kind of a stuck-up jackass?” I knew that voice. I knew that voice anywhere.

“Zen!” I squeaked, throwing myself into his arms. I’ve never been so happy to see a familiar face.

“Hi, MC,” Zen snuggled me, “Look at you…You’re…”

“Seven said the same thing,” I blushed a bit.

“That’s where I know you from!” Jaehee chirped, “You’re her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I cringed, “The one from all the pictures of Zen that have come out recently. I’m the bitch that allegedly broke his heart.”

“She didn’t, Jaehee,” Zen promised, “I knew where her heart was. And it’s with a certain little weirdo we all know and love.”

“Pick me!” Seven shot his hand straight up, waving it frantically, “Pick me! Zen! I know this one! I know who that is!”

I leaned over and kissed Seven’s cheek, “I know who it is, too.”

“Did you do all of this, MC?” Zen asked.

“Yep,” I nodded, taking great pride in my work, “What gave it away?”

“The gold and the pastels,” Zen pointed out, “It’s nicely put together.”

“Seven pulled some strings with V for me,” I held my boyfriend’s hand, “And here we are.”

“You’re a lucky guy, Seven,” Zen gushed, keeping me close.

“Yes,” Seven agreed, a permanent smile on his face, “Yes, I am.”

“And you know what?” I pulled Seven into my arms, “So am I.”

“You’re a lucky guy, too?!” Seven gasped, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, MC. I love you and all of you, no matter what gender you are.”

“You’re a dork, Seven,” I giggled, “But we should probably mingle a little more, yeah?”

“Do we have to?” Seven pouted, “That means more people.”

“You, my dear, sweet, Seven,” I laid my head on his shoulder, “are the most extroverted introvert I have ever met in my life. And I love you for it.”

“I’ll let you two crazy kids get back to it,” Zen backed off, “Hopefully, this won’t be the last time I see you tonight.”

“Probably not.”

As the night went on, I found myself near the bar, finally getting that well-deserved drink I so desperately needed. If I do say so myself, I’d say this party is definitely shaping up to be a crowning achievement. I took my phone out and started snapping pictures. Mostly because I wasn’t allowed to bring my DSLR. It’d be too much for me to fit in my bag anyway. But my phone was fine. Hopefully, I’ll be able to run this by V before I get the blog out. 

While I was snapping pictures, I noticed a little something, something in each and every one of them. The same face kept popping up. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was going to throw up. Color me curious. And concerned. If this kid was going to throw up, someone needed to be there for him. And…well…I wasn’t the heartless bitch that would leave him alone. He’s just…twitchy. Maybe I should go and say hi.

I walked over to him with my glass in hand and gave it to him, “Here. You look like you could use this more than me.”

“Oh!” he jumped out of his skin, “No. I can’t. I’m too young.”

“I’m not going to tell,” I insisted. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

“You’re beautiful!” Wow…Homeboy was coming on a little strong. But like I said, he was just a kid. Chances are, he’s never had a girlfriend before and can’t talk to girls very well. And in his defense, I was kind of looking like a ten tonight. I understand how that may be a little intimidating. Especially with someone of his…Lack of experience level.

“Thank you,” I smiled sweetly, trying not to freak him out any more than he already was, “I’m MC. I planned this whole party.”

“What?” his eyes damn near popped out of his head.

“Yoosung!” There he was. There was my beloved idiot.

“Hi, Seven,” the kid stuttered a little. I think I’ve heard Seven talk about this one in particular a time or two before.

“I see you’ve met my special lady friend…” It’s so sweet to hear Seven introduce me to people, “MC, this is Yoosung. He’s kind of a spazz.”

“Seven!” Yoosung whined.

“Seven,” I settled him, “That wasn’t nice. And do you really have the room to talk? You’re kind of a spazz, too. And probably to a more severe degree.”

“Yeah…” Seven hung his head, “You got a point. Sorry, Yoosung. I’m sorry that you’re a spazz and that I’m a bigger spazz than you.”

“Very good,” I gave him a well-deserved pat on the head.

“Thank you, MC,” Yoosung smiled back, relaxing a little bit. Only to start back up again, “Wait a second, you’re dating Seven?!”

“Yeah,” I nodded, getting a gentle kiss from said boyfriend.

“What’s the matter, Yoosung?” Seven teased him, “You jealous?”

“No!” Yoosung jumped on the defensive.

“If you are,” Seven wondered, “Are you jealous of me or of her? Because depending on that answer, I might be able to make this work as a polygamy kind of thing.”

“Don’t make it weird, Seven!” Yoosung squeaked, “I’m not jealous!”

“Have you just met him?” I giggled, “When doesn’t he make it weird?”

“That’s my girl,” Seven melted, “Hey…Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Hopefully,” I crossed my fingers, “It’ll be longer than a second.”

“Just come here,” Seven took my hand and brought me to a door. But a very special door. One that had a do not enter sign on it. And for someone like Seven, that’s always asking for trouble. On our way out, I caught a quick look from Saeran. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that boy was smiling. Look at that, MC. You did manage to break both of them. Good for you. Little did I know, though, that do not enter sign should’ve said rooftop access. I didn’t think we’d end up on the roof tonight, but I’m sure as hell not complaining, “I figured we could go somewhere quiet.”

“This is definitely quiet,” I cuddled into his chest, “What are we doing up here?”

“We both needed to get away from the crowd downstairs,” Seven figured, “You know, MC…I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I had to be,” I pointed out, “I mean, I planned the party. What kind of…”

“No,” Seven cut me off, “I mean…_Here. _With me. And I can’t ever begin to thank you for what you’ve done for me. And I love you so damn much…”

“I love you, too.” Hello. I’m a puddle. And only one thing could make this moment worse, “You know how I said we weren’t getting pizza after the RFA party?”

“I remember,” he nodded, “You’re also still the biggest tease on the planet. Unless…Are we going to get pizza tonight, MC? Because that’d be awesome.”

“No,” I smiled a little, “But I did finish a job tonight. What do you say we go get some pancakes?”

“Oh, MC,” Seven clutched his chest, “You really do know how to woo a lady, don’t you?”

“I seduce you with pancakes,” I laughed, “Almost as if…Destiny was calling me.”

“What?”

“Seven…” I held his hands, “Open up your eager eyes…”

“DID YOU JUST MEME ME?!” Seven’s nose started bleeding. My work here is done.

“I might have,” I started heading for the stairs, “So? Are we going to get pancakes or no?”

“Absolutely,” Seven chased after me and we left our friends behind.

And that…That was the story of how I fell in love with Mr. Brightside.


End file.
